


Metus

by graysonsflight, millenniumrobin



Series: Lost and Found [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe, Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily Feels, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graysonsflight/pseuds/graysonsflight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/millenniumrobin/pseuds/millenniumrobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the conclusion of “Young Justice: Invasion” and Wally’s death, Dick Grayson disappears for three years. When he returns, with a quite undead Jason Todd in tow, he now has to deal with the fact that the people and the relationships he left behind are no longer the same: that time, and abandonment, changes people. As the world continues to change around the Bat Family, a frightening new evil emerges; a combination of villains so diverse, so entrenched in the Bat Family’s past, that it will take every single one of them, plus some outside help, to rescue one of their own from certain death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any DC characters, but I am probably nicer to them than DC is. The mature rating is for later chapters.

            It had been a long night.  Jason was sore and cold and extremely tired.  This whole _not killing_ thing took a lot more energy out of him than he had remembered.  He ran a hand through his slightly unkempt hair, his palm sliding wearily over his face were a mask should have been.  Jason felt naked and exposed in civilian clothes, but when Oracle called a meeting, you answered your summons or faced the wrath of Big Sister.  The location of the meeting still confused him, but he was sure Barbara had her reasons; she always did.

            He slunk into the diner, noticing only a bored, tired looking woman in a waitress’s apron manning the counter.  The corners of his mouth tipped into a smug smile.  He was the first one here – which meant for once _he’d_ be the one to get the most coveted seat – the one with his back to the wall and eyes on the door.  Dickie was going to be pissed.

            “Just you?” the woman asked, reaching her hand down for a menu.  Jason shook his head.

            “Big table,” he said holding each hand on either side of his head.  The waitress frowned a little, taking in Jason’s battered leather jacket and clearly well loved jeans.  He figured he was being sized up, to see if his tip was going to be worth the hassle.  She must have decided he was good enough because she flicked her hand towards the back of the room. 

            “Help yourself,” she grabbed a stack of menus and followed him to the table.  “Coffee, hon?”

            Jason nodded, his hands rubbing over his face again. “Yes,” he groaned.  “Lots.”  He looked up to meet her eyes through his fingers.  “I mean, yes, please.  The other people coming are going to want some too.”  If he was going to attempt this good-boy gig, the least he could do was attempt to use the manners his mother had tried to teach him when she wasn’t tweaking out on something.

            The waitress returned less than a minute later, setting a steaming cup of coffee down in front of him.  Jason reached for the sugar and began pouring.  The waitress watched him a moment with her eyebrow cocked.

            “How many you expecting?” she asked, still watching wearily as Jason kept pouring.

            He placed the sugar back on the table, not in the least bit ashamed.  With now free hands he began ticking off silent names on his fingers.

            “At least six more,” he told her.  “But only four more coffees.  Might as well have the other stuff waiting.  Can I get a hot chocolate and a tea?”

            “Uh-huh,” the woman replied, still eyeing his heavily sugared coffee skeptically.  As she turned to leave, the bell on the front door jangled.  A slender young woman with chin length black hair held the door open as a redhead in a wheelchair glided her way in followed by a chattering blonde.  The She-Bats had arrived.  Barbara smiled at him tiredly as she wheeled herself over to their table.

            “Jason,” she greeted warmly.  He nodded towards her, and edged himself over slightly as the darker haired girl seated herself next to him with out a sound. 

            “Hey, Cass,” he said quietly as the waitress returned with a tray full of mugs.

            “Who gets what?” the woman asked with a sigh.  The woman glanced around at the women who had entered.  Barbara with her clean, sharp looking sweater and well-kept hair, Cass with neatly pressed black jeans, and Stephanie sporting a spotless purple pea coat.  The waitress must have decided that these three made up for Jason’s back streets of Gotham appearance because she smiled at them.

            Cass gratefully reached her hands out to take the mug of tea while the other two women received their coffee with smiles and thanks.  “And the other three?”

            “Oh, they should be here any minute,” the blonde, Stephanie, offered with a wave of her hand.  She leaned around from Cassie’s other side to smile at Jason.  “Damian’ll appreciate the fact that you have his coco waiting.  The little princeling has been getting moody again.  I think its because he misses me.”  Jason didn’t even try to hide the roll of his eyes.

            “Or it’s because the Big Guy is off world again, for the second time this month,” Jason offered, a teasing smirk on his face. 

            Stephanie stuck her tongue out before smiling back and happily adding cream and sugar to her coffee.

            Jason watched Barbara as she slowly stirred her own drink.  She was already lost in her own head.  After a practiced nonchalant sip of his coffee, he turned his eyes more fully to the woman at the end of the table.

            “So what’s the deal, Babs?” he asked, steaming mug pressed against his temple.  “Why here?”

            “I needed to get out,” she shrugged, a smile on her lips.  “And besides, Steph was craving some diner waffles.”  Stephanie nodded unapologetically and hailed the waitress to place her order.  She ordered for everyone else too.  When it came to food, this group could be pretty predictable.  Before long, the table was covered in food.  Jason, having quickly finished his own bacon was eying the three slices on Tim’s plate greedily.  The other three still hadn’t arrived, by the way Barbara kept shifting, he figured this might get interesting when they finally did show.

            “This was a mistake,” he caught Barbara saying under her breathe.  Both he and Cass turned to look at her.

            “I could go look?” Cassie offered, all ready starting to lift herself from her seat, but Barbara stopped her with a wave. 

            “No, it’s fine, they’ll be here.  It’s just…” Jason watched Barbara carefully.  He knew she and Dick had been fighting again and their on-again-off-again relationship was definitely in the off mode at the moment, but he could tell it was something more than that.  He drained his coffee cup before setting it down and reaching for Dick’s.  No sense in letting good coffee get cold. He was about to take it when he remembered cold was exactly how Dick preferred it.  He hesitated, torn between wanting to piss his self-proclaimed big brother off, and not wanting to agitate Barbara further.  There was something going on.  Jason reached for Timmy’s mug instead; if he couldn’t have his bacon, he’d settle for his coffee.

            “Wanna tell me what’s really going on?” he asked seriously.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Stephanie flinch, her fork pausing half way to her mouth.  Beside him, Jason could feel Cass stiffen ever so slightly. 

            Barbara sighed heavily, running her hands over her face in a way Jason recognized all too well.  He wondered silently if it was a trait they had _all_ picked up from the Big Guy.  She paused to smile at the waitress who refilled their coffee cups, even the one in front of Tim’s empty seat.  Once the woman had left, Barbara turned back to him, looking much older than her twenty-two years.

            “Wait,” she said heavily.  “Just wait until the boys are all here.”

 

***

 

            It had been a long night. Three attempted muggings, two attempts at grand theft auto, and one group of rag tag jewel thieves with surprisingly strong left hooks.  Then again, it was always a long night for Dick Grayson when Batman was on League assignment a galaxy or two away. Nightwing sighed, hearing the crackle of chatter in his earpiece as he was finishing the final knot around a group of would-be jewel thieves.  There had been no way for him to leave one of the two behind, so he’d had no choice but to bring them both out on patrol.   

            “Would you two please, _please_ , stop fighting,” he begged the two other boys on his frequency.  He could hear both Tim and Damian arguing on the rooftop above him.  It was nothing serious, he knew, but it was more than enough to give him a splitting headache.  With one last tug of the rope, Nightwing turned his back on the thieves, pulled out his grappling gun, and shot a line back up to the top of the building.

            Both Damian, with his hood pulled up over his close cropped hair, and Tim, were standing with their arms cross glowering at each other. 

            “That costume,” Damian began, “Is by far the most ridiculous thing I have every seen.”

            Dick looked sideways at Tim’s newest costume design.  He cringed slightly as he took in what appeared to be feathers lining his arms before furrowing out into a cape behind him.  If Dick was honest, it did look a little… _overdramatic_ … but he had made a few of his own costume mistakes and wasn’t going to be the one to bring Tim down.

            “It is not!” Tim fired back, flicking his wrists out to make the feathers go taut.  “Look, these feathers are specially designed to turn my cape into a glider.  It’s the closest we can come to actually flying.”  Damian eyed the feathers wearily, his glower remaining.  
            “I wouldn’t be caught dead in something so preposterous. You’re like the new Icarus – I can only hope you share his fate.”

            Dick rubbed both hands over his own face roughly.  He wished, for probably the hundredth time that day, that Damian spoke like a normal eleven year old; maybe if he did, Tim would be able to resist arguing with the kid.  As it was, neither one of them could help themselves.  He could see Tim about to give some type of retort when he held up his hands to stop them.

            “Enough,” he pleaded.  “We’re late as it is.”

            Tim flicked his wrist for a second time and his feathers relaxed as he checked his watch.

            “Babs is going to kill us,” he announced.  “We were supposed to be there more than thirty minutes ago.”

            “ _Tt_ ,” Damian replied, finally uncrossing his arms from his chest.  “Todd has probably already seized the prime seat as well.”  He was of course referring to the only seat at any table where you could have both your back to the wall, and your eyes on the door.  It was a thing with them.  The only time it was a non-issue was when they were all eating with Bruce – and then there was no question in anyone’s mind who got to have the good seat.

            Dick bent down to scoop up the large duffle bag at the younger boy’s feet, swinging it on to his shoulder.  It contained civvies for the three of them, along with Damian’s helmet for Dick’s motorcycle.  Both Dick and Tim’s bikes were stashed in an alleyway not too far off.

            “Let me worry about Barbara,” he told them, firing off his grappling gun.  “And Robin,” he said, his hand resting on Damian’s shoulder, “try to behave.” Dick was just about to jump from the building ledge when Tim stopped him.

            “Wait! Let me show you how the glider works.”  The teen wiped his wrists out hard brining the improvised wings to attention, took a few steps back, and then with a running leap threw himself from the building.  Both Dick and Damian stared down after him.

            “When he does break his ankles,” Damian started firing off his own grapple gun.  “You can bet I won’t be offering to help him with his chores around the manor.”  The boy swung himself down from the building and into the alley; Dick following close behind.  He’d have to tell Tim later he was actually pretty impressed with his new wings.

            He was the last one to make it to the bikes, the other two sat, wordlessly glaring at each other.  Whatever it was he’d missed, Dick’s headache was grateful for it.  Bending down, he unzipped the bag and started tossing jeans, shirts and reinforced jackets at the other two boys.  With Damian’s helmet, they hadn’t had room for spare shoes, so Dick was just glad all of their boots could easily pass as motorcycle shoes. He kicked the steel toes off to quickly change out one pair of pants for another. 

            After they’d dressed, and Dick had crammed their Kevlar plates, titanium weave bodysuits, and yes, even Tim’s feathers into the now much heavier duffle bag, he handed over Damian’s helmet. It had been a gift for Damian’s latest birthday: black with streaks of yellow and green flying back from the safety visor, a small, barely noticeable little bird soaring near the crown of his head.

            “Safety first, Babybird.”  He pulled his own helmet off the back of the bike, and smiled as he pulled it snuggly over his head and face.  It felt good to key in the ignition, the machine coming to life at his touch.  Tim kicked his own bike into gear and started off towards the diner.

            “Do try not to drive like you’re Pennyworth’s age this time, Grayson,” Damian told him.  He could feel the younger boy tucking himself on the back of the bike, his arms wrapping around him, and gripping on to his jacket with gloved hands.  Bruce, who knew how Dick actually liked to drive, had insisted Damian always wear full gear before getting onto the back of Dick’s bike. _Funny_ , Dick thought as he peeled his way out of the ally.  How Bruce had trusted him on a modified bike when he was Damian’s age, but was uncomfortable with the littlest Robin even being a passenger.  He laughed to himself as he revved the engine, hitting the gas to catch up to Tim.  Dick could feel Damian’s grip getting tighter, but he could also feel what he swore must have been the rumble of laughter coming from the boy.  Not that Damian Wayne would ever admit to such folly.  Dick felt himself let out a whoop of excitement as he pushed the bike faster. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be such a bad night after all.

 

***

 

            It had been a long night.  Or at least, it had been a long last four hours.  Barbara Gordon tried to sit calmly, tried to sip her coffee without shaking.  Both Stephanie and Cass had _some_ idea about what was going on.  They had both returned to the tower as soon as Barbara had accidentally started cursing a blue streak into their com-links.

            Things had been going fine.  The girls had been on patrol – and she had eyes on both Jason flying solo, and Dick out with Tim and Damian.  The city was being well cared for in Bruce’s absence.  All things considered, it had been a relatively quiet night in Gotham. Sure, there had been your standard criminals, but Barbara was willing to call it a good night when none of the Arkham residents were running amuck.  Everything had been running smoothly.  That was until Barbara’s computer had started _pinging._   It was a warning, but not just any warning.  Barbara’s computer only made this particular sound when some spyware she’d installed on few less than reputable websites was triggered.

            “What do you got for me, baby?” she had whispered, minimizing all other windows.  Her eyes had briefly scanned the page, hitting every highlighted word like a gunshot. _Ransom. Reward. Venom. **Damian Wayne.**_   She had had to read through the message thread three times before she started finding the connections.It was coded – it was always coded – but in the three years Dick had gone on hiatus, Barbara had learned all of his hacking tricks, and then came up with a fair number of her own.  She hadn’t been able to make sense of all of it, but what she could was alarming enough.  That’s when she had started swearing.  That’s when the girls came back, and when Barbara hacked into the comm frequencies of all four of the batboys.  She had been able to calm herself enough to serenely inform them that their presence was requested tonight at the diner at West and 12th.  She had phrased it as a request, but all of them knew she wasn’t giving them a choice.  Dick had tried to argue with her, but when Jason, with all of their comms patched together promised he’d be there, Dick wasn’t left with much of a choice.  All of them would come.

            She could feel Jason’s eyes on her as he listened to Stephanie chatter.  Barbara was grateful, she knew Steph was talking to cover for her; she kept thinking up new topics so Jason wouldn’t have time to start asking questions.  The waitress made eye-contact with Barbara, before flicking her eyes to the extra empty seats; a bowl of cereal with milk waiting, beside it what had once been bacon, eggs, and toast – but was now only eggs and toast, and the small half-dollar pancakes smothered in fruit that Damian would never admit he loved.  Barbara just smiled with a shrug and the waitress moved on, placing herself back at the very front of the diner.

            The slight tinkling of bells attached to the door was the next thing to startle Barbara from her thoughts.  All three of her missing boys wandered in.  Dick strode in first with his easy grace, soft leather jacket, but a newly formed burse on his right cheek.  Tim, was already eyeing every possible exit and entrance in the diner, even though he’d been here at least fives times before.  And Damian, with his inexplicable air of superiority, so completely out of place on an eleven-year-old boy. 

            Dick came over, smiled at the seat Jason had claimed.  He let both Tim and Damian slide into the booth, before plopping himself down on the end and turning his blue eyes on Barbara.

            “You rang?” he asked with a grin.  He was trying to pacify her.  Trying to make up for the fact that they hadn’t spoke outside of mission briefings for the last week and a half.  Barbara met his gaze with a raised eyebrow.

            “You’re late,” she told him simply.  There was no way a smile was going to calm her nerves.  Not this time.

            “Sorry, Babs,” Tim said, interrupting the staring contest before it had time to start.  “We got held up, and then I wanted to show off my new cost-” Barbara could hear the thud of Damian kicking Tim under the table.

            “His new shoes,” the smaller boy supplied, eyeing the waitress.  He reached out for his hot chocolate, sighing seriously when he realized it had gone cold.

            “Really?” Stephanie asked as she leaned around both Cass and Jason.  “Shoes, D?  That’s the best you could come up with?”

            Damian turned his sharp eyes on her before looking down his nose at the plate in front of him.

            “Really, Brown?  You ordered me something off the children’s menu? And you’re chastising me?”

            Barbara opened her mouth to try and rein this meeting in before it got completely out of control, but Jason stopped her with a laugh.

            “If you’re really that offended, kid, you can order something else.  I’ll eat it.”

            Damian sighed more deeply than Barbara though pancakes really deserved, but he did pick up his fork.

            “No,” he said.  “It’s here.  I might as well eat it.”

            She watched as the three began eating, wanting to start right away, but not wanting to at the same time.  If only for this brief moment in time, she could pretend that they were some type of normal.  But that was a lie.

            “We have a problem,” she heard herself say before she had even realized she was going to.  All six pairs of eyes turned their attention to her.  Dick’s slid sideways to the waitress, but she was ignoring them completely.

            “Here, Babs?” he asked, a warning in his voice.  But Barbara knew that it had to be here.  It had to be somewhere open.  Somewhere were Dick would think twice before making a scene.  She nodded.

            “There’s been some talk on the Web.  A few sites we look after.  There’s something going down, and it revolves around a kidnapping.” She couldn’t stop her eyes from moving to Damian.  He was a brat, and full of this anger Barbara couldn’t even begin to understand, but sitting there, watching him with a mouth full of pancakes, she knew without a doubt that anyone of the people at this table would give their lives to keep him safe.  The strong clearing of Dick’s throat tore her back to reality.

            “I really don’t think this is something that everyone needs to hear, Babs,” he said bluntly.  His eyes were focused only on her, refusing to look to his side, to where Damian sat.

            “All of them have every right to know when a threat has been - ”

            “Barbara,” he interrupted, his voice trying to imitate the commanding calm of Bruce – and failing.  “You don’t know how credible this is and bringing panic-”

            “Excuse me?” she said, taking her turn at interrupting.  “You don’t think I looked into it?  You don’t think that I would bring this up if it wasn’t an issue?”

            “I don’t think you’ve done enough, no.  Not if this is the first I’m hearing of -”

            “Right.  Because you’re the end all be all aren’t you?” Both of their voices were controlled whispers.  Carrying no further than the seven people at the table.  But the tension was a physical thing, hanging in the air.

            Stephanie placed her arms down heavily on the table, temporarily distracting them both.

            “Cover your ears, D,” she said with a sigh.  “Mommy and Daddy are fighting at the dinner table.”

            “…Again…” Tim and Cassie added simultaneously.

            Both Barbara and Dick shared a look, and she nodded.  He stood from his seat without a word, his hands moving towards the back of her chair as if to guide her out.

            “I got it,” she said sharply before rolling herself back from the table and towards the door.  Dick turned to face the others, his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck.

            “We’ll be back,” he said.  “Order whatever else you want.  Bruce is paying.”  He turned to follow Barbara to the front of the diner.  Without a word he held the door for her and they both slipped out into the night.

            Barbara led the way, bringing him away from the front door and over towards the back of the building.

            “Look, Babs,” Dick started, spreading his hands apologetically.  “It isn’t that I don’t trust you, but you can’t… you can’t…” he trailed off, eyes moving to the ground.

            “I can’t let everyone know what’s going on?  I have to leave some people in the dark?” she asked, a bitter edge in her voice.  Dick, eyes still on the pavement, scrubbed both hands over his face.

            “I have already apologized for that.  I did what I thought I had to do.”

            Barbara laughed, eyes burning into him.

            “That’s not how I run my team,” she told him.  His eyes flew up to meet hers, but he stayed silent.  “Just because he’s gone, doesn’t mean you’re automatically in charge.” 

            “Barbara, I have been a part of this team a lot longer than-”

            “You ran away,” she almost yelled, her voice shaking with the effort of staying quiet.  “You ran away for three years, Dick.  Without a word to me, or Tim, or even Bruce.  Everyone else might be able to let that one go, but I’m still a little pissed.”

            She could feel his eyes on her now, feel the way he was holding something back – something that probably would have hurt, and she wanted to do the same, but she couldn’t.  This particular fight had been brewing from the moment he’d walked away, and it had been eating her from the inside out the whole year and a half he had been back.

            “You may not realize it,” she continued, her voice growing calmer.  “But I was the one who stepped up.  I was second in command.  Hell, half the time I was it,” she laughed again, her arms wrapping around her body.  

            “I even had to boss Bruce around a few times.  I was the one who had to talk him through the realization he had a ten-year-old son he’d never known about.  I helped Tim through his first break-up, oh and the _death of his father_. I was there.  Just because you’re back, doesn’t automatically make you the leader.  Three years is a long time.  Things change.”

            Barbara watched as Dick’s shoulders dropped.  She almost felt sorry for yelling at him.  She was about to apologize for crossing a line when his eyes locked with hers, and then slid to her chair.

            “I know…” he said, his voice sounding pained.  “I know I let you down…and…”

            “Are you serious?” she asked him, dumbfounded.  “For the love of… I’m not talking about this goddamn chair!” she let herself yell.  “I have done more good sitting,” she paused, swallowing her anger down, bringing her voice down with it.  “I have done more good sitting in this chair than I ever did flying over the roof tops with a target painted on my chest.”

            Barbara slipped her hands down to the wheels of her chair, pushing forward and back towards the door.

            “There is a legitimate threat of kidnapping to deal with right now,” she reminded him, her voice completely back to business.  “I’m going back inside, and I’m going to let the rest of them know what’s going on.”

            With her back to him she pushed herself a little further, willing herself not to cry.  She was still angry, but she refused to bring that back into the diner.  No one else should have to deal with her anger.  It had been a very long night, and if this was any indication, it was only going to get longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian hatches a plan, and Barbara knows when it's time to call in for some back up.

            It was going to be a long night.  Tim could already feel it.  He checked his watch with as much stealth as he could manage.  He knew that Cass had seen him anyway, and she nodded at him.  Dick and Barbara had already been outside for more than seven minutes.  These days, anytime their private conversations lasted more than two minutes, Tim started fearing for Dick’s life.  Ever since he had come home, a year and a half ago, things had gotten infinitely more complicated.  It wasn’t just that Dick had some how managed to bring Jason, who should have been dead, back with him either.  Jason had actually probably helped to ease some of the tension.  It wasn’t that Tim hadn’t missed Dick, because he had.  He had missed both of his brothers.  Even though he had no reason to believe that Dick was dead, Tim had mourned him.  In truth, he had felt slightly abandoned.  So he did pretty much the only thing he could – he had turned to Barbara – because she knew what it felt like to be left behind. 

            Tim had just gotten used to the fact that Dick was gone, and that he probably wasn’t going to be coming back home.  He had gotten used to having Barbara in charge when Bruce was away.  Barbara was who he went to Wonder Girl had decided they’d worked better as just friends (he had pretty much agreed with her anyway).  He’d gone to her when he started trying to figure out how he felt about Steph (he still really wasn’t completely sure what was going on there).  And she was who he would talk to when Damian showed up and became the most annoying thing to happen since… since ever.

            “Tim, come back to us,” Steph half sang, interrupting his thoughts.  Tim looked around, noticing that three pairs of eyes were trained on him; Damian was too busy scowling at his pancakes.

            “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Jason asked, reaching over and stealing the rest of his coffee, adding in way more sugar than was truly necessary.  Tim shrugged.

            “They’ve been out there a long time,” he said with a sigh.

            “Seven minutes,” Cass added solemnly.  Tim noticed that she was not wearing any type of watch.

            “You think we need to send out a peacemaker?” Steph offered, but Jason shook his head.

            “They’re big kids, guys.  They can handle it on their own.  And if Dick does end up putting his foot in his mouth, Babs will have no trouble leaving him bleeding.”  Tim watched as Jason’s eyes shifted, squinting as though he could see through the wall and outside the diner, before traveling back to land on the youngest member of their table.

            “How you doing, Kid?” he asked.  Damian didn’t even bother looking up.

            “Fine,” he said, stabbing his fork into a helpless strawberry.  _Oh yeah,_ Tim thought dismally, this was about the Demon Child.

            “I’m sure everything is going to be fine,” Steph said with a smile as bright as the sun.  “No one’s going to be able to touch you with all of us around.”

            “ _Tt,_ ” Damian scoffed, finally raising his eyes with a sneer.  “Like I need _your_ protection, Brown. Besides, knowing you – you’d try to hug these would be kidnapper’s to death.”

            Tim tensed his body waiting for the verbal argument to start, his own ammunition waiting on the tip of his tongue, but Steph only laughed.

            “Aww, Baby Bird, is that you saying you want a hug?”

            “If you so much as touch me, so help me, I will-”

            “It will be okay,” Cass interrupted, pointing towards the door.  Barbara was already half way to them as Dick came through the door, his hand moving over his face.  When Tim managed to catch his eye, Dick smiled. Tim knew with out a doubt it was one of the fakest smiles Dick had ever given.

            “As I was saying,” Barbara announced, as though she had only paused to breathe.  “There is a threat.  And it is credible.” She turned her eyes easily towards Damian.  “You,” she said, “Are to have someone with you at all times, is that clear?”  Damian just continued to eat his pancakes with out any indication he’d heard her.  Tim was pretty sure this was going to end badly.

            “Damian Wayne,” Barbara hissed low, “I know that you heard me, and I know that you think your tougher than any group of thugs out there, but until we know more, you’re going to find yourself with a shadow everywhere you go.”

            Tim could feel the anger rolling off of Damian in waves of heat.  The smaller boy would have fought him tooth and nail if Tim had dared to use that tone of voice with him – but there was something in Barbara’s voice that spoke of finality.  She was the only one who could even come close to Bruce’s power when it came to that voice.

            “I understand,” Damian bit out.

            “Good.”

            Everyone went back to their 11:18 PM breakfasts without a word.  Tim shivered at the way the mood had changed.  Dick sat rigidly in his seat, coffee mug pressed to his temple and his cereal ignored.  Barbara was trying not to make it obvious that she was checking her phone, probably looking for any more updates into the kidnapping plot. Even Steph was silent, biting her lip as she looked into the bottom of her coffee cup. But what made Tim the most nervous was Damian.   Damian had let his anger slip away; he was on his absolute best behavior, something Tim never trusted.  The kid was already up to something, and Tim had a feeling that _something_ was only going to cause him more stress.  He was grateful when Jason finally broke the oppressive stillness. 

            “So, who wants to go let off some steam?” He asked, but his eyes were fixed on Dick.  “There’s bound to be a few baddies still up at this hour.”

            “Perfect!” Steph said with a smile, and an unnecessarily loud thunk of her empty coffee mug on the table. “Tim and I can take the kid out – find things to break.”  Tim was about to inform Steph that this was the worst possible idea unless the “things” she was looking for them to be breaking were each other, when Damian surprised him.

            “I suppose I could,” he said.  “I might be able to teach you how to do it properly, and you’ll find Drake’s new… _shoes_ … as helplessly flamboyant as I did.”

            Both of them were already sliding and shifting out of their seats, when Dick quickly on his feet, placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

            “Maybe I should come along,” he offered, but everyone knew it wasn’t a question.  Damian pulled back from him, the anger back, flashing across his face.  Tim was shocked.  Normally, that look was reserved for him.

            “Oh?” Damian said, his voice scathing.  “So you can filter the information I’m allowed to hear? I’m pretty sure you can do that better from back home, Grayson.”  Dick flinched, taking a step back as though he’d been hit.  Tim quickly got up from the table, moving to stand beside Dick, waiting.

            “Damian… I…” but the boy had already turned his back, moving to stand beside Stephanie.

            Tim wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what.  Dick wasn’t used to being on the end of that kind of Damian Rage, and it was more than obvious it had hurt.

            “Maybe you can help Barb- ” Tim tried to say but the redhead in question cut him off quickly.

            “No.  Cass is already helping me.”

            Tim didn’t miss the slight surprise that flitted through Cass’s eyes, but she said nothing.  Once again, it was Jason who stepped up to settle the mood, sliding effortlessly out of his seat and shoving Dick almost playfully in the arm.  That too was an absolute role reversal.  Tim was pretty sure every one of them was now completely out of their comfort zone.

            “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night then, Dickie.”           

            “Yeah,” Dick said dryly, eyes still trained on Damian’s back.

            Barbara smiled at Tim as she pushed herself back from the table.  She nodded to Jason, and ignored Dick completely.

            “I’ll be in touch,” she promised, Cass by her side.  The younger girl held back a second as Barbara headed towards the door.  She leaned in towards Tim with a grim look on her face.

            “Watch him,” she warned.  “He’s up to something.”  Tim nodded, not needing her to tell him which him she was referring to.  Damian was without a doubt concocting something in that devious little head of his – something that would be nothing but trouble. 

            Tim waited until the last second to follow after Steph and Damian, confused and thoroughly curious as to how this night had changed so quickly.  He checked his watch again: 11:29 PM.  Not for the first time in the year and a half since Jason had been back, Tim wished he hadn’t let him take so much of his coffee.  He knew his night was about to get a lot longer. 

 

***

 

            Things were not going exactly as planed.  Damian wasn’t sure when, exactly, he had lost control of the situation, but there was no denying that he had screwed up.  Two hours ago, he had been sitting with his eclectic hodgepodge of a family in some shabby diner the rest of them all seemed to like.  Two hours ago, he had learned that there was some group of imbecilic meatheads who had hatched a plan to kidnap him.  Him, Damian Wayne, of all people; the very idea was ridiculous. 

            Thirty minutes ago, he had been able to give his babysitters the slip.  It really had been foolish for everyone to agree to let him go with Brown and Drake.  Brown was too busy believing in the best of him to know when he was planning on abusing that trust, and Drake trusted him so little it was far too easy to distract him long enough to run.  All it had taken was one mugging.  The very first one they’d come to.  He’d had taken charge, told them to go at the group of three thugs from the front while he’d circle in from the back.  He wondered blandly how long it would take them to realize he had deceived them.

            As he struggled with the rope currently binding his hands and elbows together, Damian was willing to admit that he had made a mistake; but probably because there was no one around to hear of his failure.  He knew that when Dick or Barbara or Alfred got a hold of him, he was going to be read the riot act.  Not to mention the lecture his father was sure to give him when he finally got home.  Damian figured it wouldn’t be long until they realized he was missing, and Barbara would send them back out to find him and bring him back – if only so that she could kill him herself. 

            It hadn’t been hard to find the men who were after him.  Damian had made his way to the dirtiest bar he could find, picked an unlucky scumbag relieving himself behind a dumpster, and interrogated him.  With his Robin costume firmly in place, boots, cape, gloves, mask, everything, the thug had spilled his guts.  What Damian hadn’t been expecting, was that there was apparently a hit out for him, for _Robin_ , out as well.  He hadn’t even had time to let go of the guy’s shirt before another group was on him.  Damian normally would have been able to fight off a group of five men.  He would have had to work at it, but with his speed and intelligence, it shouldn’t have been a problem.  And it hadn’t been, until he’d felt the prick of a needle, and the slow mind numbing, infuriating, haze that came over him.

            “Uh-uh, niño.  We can’t have you all scratched up.”

            Damian had struggled at the time to place the voice, but now, crammed into a slightly too small storage unit, he was beginning to remember.  _Bane._   Damian felt like he wanted to scream.  His gloves and his boots had been taken, along with his utility belt.  He felt it a small, somewhat useless victory that he could still feel the mask plastered to his face.  He cursed himself over and over again in several different languages for allowing this to happen.

            As he struggled, banging his body against the unyielding metal of his crate, an icy ball of dread began to materialize in his stomach.  If they had been after Damian Wayne, and they had gotten a hold of Robin, who could possibly be behind this?  How did they know, and what other information did they have?

            He had no idea how long he had been under the effects of the sedative, nor how long they had been traveling for, but it was still dark when they opened the hatch of his crate.  Right away, Bane’s hand was wrapped around his throat.

            “Now,” the man crooned.  “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”  The man lifted him from the box by his neck.  Instantly, Damian began to struggle, kicking out his legs and trying to twist his shoulder.  The hand only tightened.

            “Careful Little Bird.  It’d be a shame for your brothers to find nothing but a corpse.”  Damian stilled glaring up at Bane through his mask.  The icy in his stomach began to spread, snaking its way up his limbs.  Bane was smart, and often underestimated, he knew, but there was no logical explanation he could find for why Bane would know who he was beneath the mask.

            “Oh, Mr. Bane, please,” came a new voice from somewhere behind Damian and just off to the left.  “You need to treat our guest a bit more, how do I put this, gently.”  A man in a worn out suit and sunken eyes slid into Damian’s line of sight, just as Bane released his grip on his throat and settled him onto the ground, a firm hand still locking itself onto his arms.

            “Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said with a twisted smile. “My name is Dr. Jonathan Crane.”

            “Scarecrow,” Damian retorted with a sneer.  The man rolled his eyes before lowering himself to Damian’s level.

            “I really do prefer Dr. Crane,” he said.  “Regardless, your grandfather and some of his…associates have placed a good deal of money into some of my newest research.  And your grandfather suggested that if I were to acquire you, some wonderful new test subjects might appear on this island, which Mr. Bane has graciously agreed to share with me.”

            _Of course,_ Damian thought.  Of course his grandfather would be involved.

            “Well clearly you’ve been misinformed, Doctor,” Damian spat.  “With Batman away I hardly think anyone will be coming by to be your lab rat.”  The man shot out a hand, taking hold of his hair.

            “You know, _Damian,_ ” he hissed, his mouth pressed too close to Damian’s ear.  “I don’t think that’s quite right.  Haven’t you always wondered what Nightwing feared most?  Or the Hood?  Isn’t he recently back from the dead?  I bet his nightmares would be beautiful to watch.”  Damian began to struggle again, his body thrashing almost without giving his brain long enough to give it permission, but Dr. Crane only laughed.

            “Or what about the girls?  I’d love to know why the quiet one doesn’t talk.  I bet that’s tied to her fears.  But, I must say, I wouldn’t mind the smiley one either.  You have to watch out for them.  Sometimes, it’s the ones who smile that have the most stunning terror lurking just behind those sparkling eyes.”

            Damian allowed his body to still, trying hard to focus on his breathing, trying to find a way out of this.  Preferably a way that kept the others far, far away from this damned island.

            “Don’t worry,” Dr. Crane promised, pulling a syringe.  “I won’t be using any of my new nightmare toxin on you.”  He slid the needle into the exposed skin at Damian’s wrist.  “This is just a sedative, to help keep you…shall we say…docile, while we lure in the rest of you Bat brats.”

            The fire was back, chasing the ice from his veins.  Damian tried to fight it off.  He tried uselessly to keep his eyes open and his body alert.  As his eyes betrayed him, fluttering shut against his will, he knew.  He knew without a doubt, that this, this wasn’t going to end well.

 

***

 

            Things were not going exactly as planned. Stephanie bit down on her bottom lip hard as she made her way back towards the Clock Tower.  Literally, they had left the little stinker alone for five minutes.  _Five_. And somehow, he still managed to vanish without any trace.  She and Tim had spent the better part of an hour scouring the streets for the littlest bird, but nothing, not even a whisper of information was left.  Admittedly, Stephanie knew that they should have called it in right away.  As soon as they had realized he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, she and Tim should have called the others.  But Tim hadn’t wanted to.  He had been nervous.  Stephanie figured he didn’t want to have to face the others, and admit to loosing the kid.

            She could understand that, honestly, she could, but now she was the one who was going back to face Barbara.  And Oracle was going to be pissed.

            “ _Look, you head back to the Clock Tower and tell Babs and Cass.  I’ll find the guys, we’ll regroup and then we’ll find him,”_ Tim had said. That plan had sounded all right at the time, but the closer she got to the tower, the less faith in it Stephanie had.  Tim had told her to wait, not to call it in, to wait until she was physically there, but now without him, she knew that plan was a load of crap.

            “Oracle?” she called into her communicator, still flying high over the rooftops of Gotham.

            “I read you, Steph.  What’s up?” 

            Stephanie cringed at how tired Barbara sounded.  She knew that the older woman had not been sleeping very much.  She also knew that this news would more than likely push her saint like patience passed the breaking point.

            “There was a problem,” Steph blurted out, already picking up her speed.  “D tricked us, Babs. He got away.  And we can’t find him.”

            The quiet that followed hurt more than any amount of yelling ever could.  “I’m almost back,” she added in, timidly.

            “This isn’t your fault,” Barbara soothed, the sound of her fingers on the keys of her computer clicking frantically.  “Is Red Robin with you or…”

            “No, he went to find Nightwing and Hood.  He said we’d regroup, and then figure this out, together.”  The steady stream of curses that blew out of Barbara’s mouth made Steph trip in surprise.  “Babs, he said we’d do it together,” she said once she’d regained her footing.

            Stephanie landed on the roof of the Clock Tower, swinging her body in through an open window and on to Bab’s computer platform.  She took in everything as quickly as possible, already whipping her cowl up and off of her face.  Cassandra was standing just inside the shadows, already suited up with her mask in her hands.  Barbara sat her eyes glued to one of her four monitors, her hands resting a toped her head.

            “Their communicators are off line,” she said quietly. 

Stephanie shook her head vehemently.  “No,” she said.  “Try again.  Tim said that we would do this together.  He wouldn’t lie to me.  Not to me.”

“Probably no choice,” Cass offered solemnly. 

“They aren’t that stupid,” Stephanie insisted.  “They wouldn’t go off without a plan, without…”

Barbara cut her off with a wave of her hand as she turned to face them both. “Tim alone wouldn’t,” she clarified.  “Jason would.”

“But Dick…?” Stephanie tried to reason, her hands balled into tight fists.

“He’s upset,” Barbara says with a shrug.  “He’ll be mad because he didn’t take me seriously.  He’ll be mad because they went after family.”

“So he’s going to be reckless?” Stephanie almost shouted before forcing herself to choke back her fear.

“If you thought it was your fault,” Cass says, coming to stand beside her, “Wouldn’t you?”  Both girls turn their eyes towards Barbara, waiting for instructions.

“We can find them?” Cass asks hesitantly.  But Barbara just shakes her head.

“It’ll be a few minutes still, Dick scrambled the password to get into their GPS tracking.  I can crack it, but I’ll need a little bit of time. He’s stressed so it’s sloppy.  It won’t take long.”

Stephanie can feel her body staring to tremble, unable to shake her growing guilt.  She watches intently as Barbara types away at her computer, the redhead’s eyes darting back and forth from screen to screen.  After another minute, she lets out another four-letter word, scrubbing her hands over her face.

“12,008,” Barbara sighs with a bitter smile. “When we do find them, there’s a good chance I’m going to kill him – or all of them.  I haven’t decided yet.”

“Not as sloppy as you thought?” Steph asked, her eyes trying to follow the number sequences on the screen.

“Either that, or he made Timmy do it,” Barbara confirmed, quickly minimizing one of her open windows.  She whirled her chair around to face the pair of them.  “I need you to go find someone,” she said.

 

            Twenty minutes later, Stephanie found herself and Cass fully suited up in one of the less pleasant neighborhood of Gotham.  It wasn’t Crime Alley, but it certainly wasn’t much better.

            “You’re sure this was where Oracle said she’d…” she ccouldn;t help but trail off as she looks around.  The inside of the apartment they were currently breaking into was bare at best.  Stephanie managed to get one foot through the now open window before being greeted with two paws firmly pressed against her calf.

            With its tongue hanging out, the gray bulldog was hardly what Steph would call intimidating.

            “Hey, boy,” she whispered, lowering her body onto the floor before Cass slipped in behind her.  “Where’s your mama?”  The dog may have waged his tail happily, but if it hadn’t been for Cass knocking her flat to the ground, the rather unfriendly arrow would have likely nailed her in the shoulder.

            “Who the hell do you think you are?” came a very angry voice.  Stephanie sat up slowly, her hands held out in front of her as a woman dressed in orange and black came forward from the shadows, crossbow already reloaded and aiming at her.

            “Check the logo,” she called.  “We come in peace.”  She threw her shoulders back, just to make sure the Bat symbol was plenty visible.  Both the blonde woman and Cass stayed tense, even as Artemis shifted her way out of the shadows to see them properly.

            “Oracle sent us to find you,” Cass stated firmly, still not backing down from her protective crouch.

            “Did she now?” Artemis asked, eyebrow cocked as she lowered her weapon.  “And why didn’t the mighty Oracle just hack her way into my comm system if she needed me?”

            Stephanie couldn’t help the snort that found its way out of her mouth.  “Artemis, you haven’t worn a comm in over six months.”  The older woman returned her laugh.

            “I keep forgetting that I like you, blondie.”

            Stephanie smiled. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but hope that the night was going to start getting a bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick, Jason, and Tim rush off to save their brother, blindly walking right into a trap set for them as Barbara calls an old friend, only to discover just how large the plot against the boys really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who has been reading, this chapter has a bit more collaboration between my partner and myself. Neither one of us are affiliated with DC Comics and we're not looking to make any money off of writing this story.
> 
> Thanks for reading :) All feedback is welcome!

**_Chapter Three_ **

****

            Things had not gone as planned.  Tim stood helplessly in front of the two men he looked to as brothers.

            “We lost him,” he squeaked out.  God, he hoped Steph was having better luck than he was; he knew he sounded beyond pathetic. Although, if he had to choose between breaking the news to Dick and Jay, or breaking the news to Babs, he'd take these two any day of the week.

“You…Damian’s gone?” Dick choked out, springing up from Jason’s faded couch.  “He’s gone?”  Tim could only nod. He flinched as Jason let loose a pretty vivid stream of curses. It was impressive, Tim had to give him that. As long and as eloquent as he'd heard since the last time Steph stole all of his cigarettes.

            “The kid’s a sneaky little fucker, I’ll give him that much,” Jason said.  “Stupid as hell though.”  Dick came to stand next to Tim, the younger boy could tell he was trying not to lose it completely.

“Tell us everything," he demanded. Tim could tell he was trying not to sound accusatory, only mater of fact.  Tim could respect mater of fact.  And so, Tim told him everything. How Damian was being really nice to him and Steph. How they came across the mugging. How the little brat had said he was going to help, but then disappeared. Tim knew the disappearing thing was something Damian had to have picked up from his father. He finished with how Steph was already on her way to tell Barbara. It surprised him to hear Dick swearing under his breath.  At least Tim figured it was probably swearing; the muttering was done in _Romani._

            “We could... head over there now?" Tim offered, already pressing his mask back onto his face, but Dick walked over to a nearby wall, pulling a screen up from his wrist computer. Jason made a dismissive motion with his hand.

            “No suggestions, Timmy. You've done enough damage for one night. Grown-ups are handling this now.” Jason turned to walk over near Dick, who had moved the screen up onto a wall, a holographic keyboard in front of him. His fingers were racing over it frantically.

            “Grown-ups? Aren't you like the least mature one out of all of us, Jay? I mean, even Damian..." The older man rounded on him.

            “You’re really going to compare me to that mouthy, psycho shit storm of a –” A whistle broke up their argument as Dick looked back at both of them incredulously before motioning to the complex stream of tracking sequences he was typing into the computer.  Tim wondered briefly where Jason had been going with that rant – because he may as well have been describing himself.

Jason shrugged nonchalantly and walked deeper into the apartment as Tim scowled, watching over Dick's shoulder. A loud crash made him jump, spinning around as he reached for his bo staff, only to see Jason in the process of loading up.           

             “Aaa… Jay?” Tim asked as he watched Jason slowly, deliberately, pull the clip out of the grip of a pistol with a silver slider, inspect it to make sure it was fully loaded, shove the clip back in with a clack, and then shove the pistol into the back of his pants. Jason didn’t even bother to look up as he walked over and started rifling through a drawer full of magazine clips.

“Yeah Timmy?”

            “Do you really think you’re going to need three guns?”  Tim took a step back as Jason began to laugh.

            “Five, Timmy,” he said with a smirk, opening up his jacket to reveal his second set of holsters tucked under his armpits.  “I have five guns, Timmy.” Dick looked back from the screen for a brief second, his eyes flicking over Jason's arsenal.

            “I think you might be able to tone it down just a little, Jay,” he said, eyes instantly going back to the screen.  Tim noticed Jason’s full-on eye roll, even if Dick didn’t.

            “Right,” Jason muttered.  “Because between my charming personality, your ass, and Timmy’s traumatizing fear of the female body, this mission is bound to be successful.  As long as Damian’s haughty air of superiority hasn’t set him free already.”

“I got him!” Dick yelled triumphantly, efficiently silencing the protest that was about to spring from Tim’s mouth.  He and Jason moved quickly to the screen.

            “That looks like…” Tim couldn’t even bring himself to say the name of the island.  If that’s where they were headed, there was no doubt Bane was involved in this.  He pulled up his own computer, starting to cross reference Bane with any recent activity in the area.  The fact that nothing came up was not as comforting as it should have been.  “He’s been off grid for a while,” Tim said, watching as Dick nodded and Jason looked a cross between angry and board out of his mind.

            “When do we leave?” Jason asked, this time slipping a small, sheathed, knife into his left boot.

            “Wait,” Tim interrupted.  “We have to tell Barb.” He was extremely uncomfortable with the look that passed between his older brothers.  “We don’t even have a plan!” he yelled trying to get one of them to see reason.  Jason he could understand.  Jason was the hot head, the one who rushed in to danger headlong and shooting, and if they were lucky, he’d ask some questions on his way out.  Tim turned his eyes to Dick, pleading with him.  “Dick,” he said.  “Come on, you know we need a plan; you’re the one who taught me that.  You’re the one who always says…” he trailed off, that frightening gleam tilting off of blue eyes, startling him.

            “Not this time, Timmy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “This time, Bane, and whoever else is with him, they came too close.  They went too far.”

            Tim looked between the two of them, the slight smirk on Jason’s face showing his approval.  “Fine,” he said after a moment.  “Let me just patch through to Babs first…” Dick’s hand on his wrist made him jump.

            “No, Timmy,” he said. “I want you to scramble the password to our tracking devices.”

            “Are you out of your mind?” Tim all but shouted.  But Dick just shrugged him off.

            “Maybe…” he whispered.  And that was all it took for Tim to become scared.  He opened up a link on his computer and did what he was asked.

            “This is a terrible idea,” he said, eyes staying glued to the screen and refusing to look at either one of them.

            “I know.” Dick replied, his hands scrubbing over his face as Jason finished snapping a few more clips onto his belt.

            “I have always hated Santa Prisca,” Dick said, causing Tim to look up.

            “So…does that mean I should pack some explosives?” Jason offered, already pulling open another drawer.

            “Not you too…” Tim sighed, more to himself than anyone else.  He already knew no one was going to be paying any attention to his opinions for the rest of the evening.  If he had thought the night was going to be rough before, he had been seriously underestimating how bad things could get.

***

            It was time to make a plan.  Barbara waited about thirty seconds after the girls had left to make her call.  The comm system she punched herself into was encrypted, but it was nowhere near difficult to hack her way into.

            “Selina,” she called out.  Barbara heard some rustling in the background before the other woman answered.

“You, my dear,” came the sultry voice, “Are not supposed to be able to hack this line.”

Barbara couldn’t help her laughter “And who told you that?” she asked, smirking.

            “Who do you think?” Selina answered.  Barbara could hear a cat purring in the background.  She figured it was probably best Selina was still at home.  Barbara wanted to launch right in and tell her, tell her how everything had gone to hell in the last few hours, but she couldn’t find her voice.  The pause seemed to stretch on forever.

            “He’s been gone for a while, hasn’t he?” Selina said finally.

“Yes.” Barbara could hear the disapproval in Selina’s voice, the click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Despite her less than stellar past, Barbara knew the Cat Burglar turned…well turned something, cared a lot about all of them.

“How are you kids holding up?” she asked, sounding concerned.  Barbara wanted to be able to calmly tell her everything, but calm wasn’t something she could handle right now with her nerves as frayed as they were…

“I need your help,” she blurt out. “The boys…they…” Barbara felt ashamed at the way her voice cracked.  She was supposed to be in control.  She was supposed to have everything put together, because if she didn’t, who would?  The slight tinkling of Selina’s laughter snapped her back to reality.

“Which one of our dear little bird blunders needs saving this time?” she asked.  There was another long pause before Barbara could answer; she could feel more than hear her breathing getting louder.

“Barbara?”

“…All of them…” she whispered. Selina swore on the other end, the sound of broken glass filled the air.  Barbara was just glad she wasn’t the wall Selina had thrown something at.

“Jesus Christ,” she growled.  “Who would be that…?”

“The Scarecrow is involved,” Barbara interrupted, back to dealing with information.  She could handle information.  Information was simple.  It could be chunked down, analyzed – unlike people, data could be controlled.  “Something to do with the fear toxin, but they’re cutting it with venom.”

“Venom… mixing that… what would that even do?” Selina questioned, an edge to her voice.  Barbara could hear her moving around now, the glass being swept up, a cat be shooed out of the way, and the swish of fabric.  Her motions sounding hurried.

“I don’t know,” Barbara answered bitterly.  “I think…I think the al Ghul family is involved in this some how.”  Barbara wasn’t ready for the almost inhuman hiss that came from the other line.

“I swear to god if that woman has touched one hair on his…”

“Selina, focus,” she begged.  “I need information.” 

“Ha!” Selina laughed.  “What makes you think I know anything about that Harpy?” Barabra knew she had to tread lightly; the anger of the older woman was coming across loud and clear.

            “Because you keep closer tabs on her than I do.  Hatred is a powerful tool.”  There was a pause from Selina, one that Barbara knew well; she had won this conversation.

“The regular meeting place then?” Selina finally said.  “I’ll need about ten minutes.”

“Yeah.” She allowed herself a small smile; she had almost forgotten how much she missed Selina, when she was behaving herself.

 

Barbara was glad that the “regular meeting place,” a bench in the park, was only about five minutes from the Clock Tower as she maneuvered herself along the potholes of Gotham City’s sidewalks.  The late summer air was still hung heavily in the air making her sweat as she pulled up along side the empty bench.  Not too far away, she could see Selina Kyle, dressed all in black, moving towards her, two cups of coffee in her hands, and a purse slung over her shoulder.

“You always know,” Barbara said, taking the cup that was offered to her.

            “You sounded exhausted over the link,” Selina answered, plopping herself down on the bench, hand quickly riffling through the purse.  “So, are you ready?”

            Barbara nodded, drinking deeply from the coffee, before turning her full attention to Selina.

“There’s al Ghul money involved in this.  I’d bet all of my nine lives on it,” Selina said angrily.  “But, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Daddy Dearest is going behind his daughter’s back,” Selina said, her eyes narrowed.  “As much as I want it to be her fault, I don’t think she has any idea what’s going on.”  Barbara didn’t bother asking how Selina knew this.  Frankly, she didn’t care how the woman got her information, only that it was reliable, and over the past four years, Selina had never let her down.

“Do we know where?” Barbara asked.  She had an idea, an obvious idea, but it seemed too easy.

“I’m only confirming your suspicions,” Selina said flatly.  “They’re on Santa Prisca. So, that’s Scarecrow and Bane working together off of al Ghul money?”

“Those idiots,” Barbara swore.  “They’re going in blind.”

“You’re not in contact with them?” Selina asked, her eyebrows lifting skyward.  “I thought… I guess I thought they’d just gone black.”  Barbara shook her head, draining more from her coffee cup. 

“I didn’t realize they were collectively that stupid,” Selina whispered, her fingers finding Barbara’s and squeezing lightly before letting go.

“Dick hasn’t been…” Barbara had to stop, her teeth sinking quietly into her bottom lip.  “He hasn’t been the same since…”  
            “I know,” Selina interrupted saving Barbara from having to delve into her own emotions.  “And it doesn’t help when Bruce goes off for weeks at a time to go save the world or whatever,” she shook her head with a sigh.  “You’ve got one, still avoiding the reasons he ran away,” she began ticking the boys off on her fingers,  “another still dealing with the fact that he died. The third convinced he isn’t good enough – and finally Damian, who thinks he has to prove to the world he’s good enough to be Bruce’s son,” she finished by clenching her fist.  “Sometimes, I think he forgets just how badly those boys still need him.”  She stood to go, dropping a small flash drive into Barbara’s lap.

“What’s this?” Barbara asked, already sliding it into her pocket.  Selina smirked.

“You probably already have it, but it’s a map of the island.” Her hand squeezed Barbara’s shoulder reassuringly.  “If you need me,” she said, “call me. I’ll come find you wherever you are.”

Barbara watched as she left, all hips down the paved path of the park.  She fingered the flash drive in her pocket before turning away.  A look at her watch let her know that the girls would be back soon.  Barbara could help the bitter laughter that came up through her chest.  And she had thought the night was going to be a long one _before._

***

          This night had been nothing short of a nightmare.  Dick failed to see exactly how it could go any more wrong.  He tried, in vain, to figure out how he had gotten from gunning the engine of his motorcycle, laughing with the wind rushing past him and his little brother digging his fingers into his sides to this.

            This was Jason, Timmy, and him currently sneaking in the back way to the Batcave. It had been Timmy’s idea – to steal…no, “acquire” the Batjet, and it had been Dick’s executive decision to break in.  He didn’t want to have to tell Alfred that they had lost the littlest monster.  He hardly wanted to deal with it himself, having to look Alfred in the eye would have been next to impossible. Dick knew he was being irrational.  He was supposed to be the adult here, and he just couldn’t be. Not when everything falling to pieces around him; not when it was all his fault.

            “Hey, Hack Wonder! A little help here?” Jason called, kneeling down next to an exposed computer panel hidden in the rocks.

            Dick walked over quickly, his hands scrubbing over his face.

            “Override RG-4,” he said calmly.  Tim spun towards him, eyes blinking in disbelief.

            “I can’t believe that one still works!” he said, sounding almost giddy.

            “Neither can I,” Dick agreed with a shrug.  He extended his hand smoothly to help Jason up from the ground. The younger man just rolled his eyes.

            “Geeks,” Jason muttered,  “let’s get this over with.  I’m not looking forward to hotwiring this thing…again.”  Dick just smiled as he followed him in; trying not to laugh at the incredulous look Tim was sending Jason.

            “Jay, exactly how many times have you hotwired one of Bruce’s vehicles?”

            “This year?” Jason asked, already fishing through one of his pockets.

            “Enough,” Dick said, effectively ending the conversation.  He stood back, giving Tim plenty of space to work, watching nervously as Tim easily bypassed the security system of the jet.  No more than three minutes later, he couldn’t help but smile as Tim pulled away.

            “And we’re in,” the youngest said with a smile.

            Jason was the first one inside, already on his back underneath the control system by the time Dick had made it on board.

            “He keeps trying to update the system,” Jason called, sounding only slightly irritated.

            “Can you do it?” Tim asked.  Jason’s laughter filled the cockpit.

            “Something no woman has ever asked me,” he replied, just as the engine roared to life.

            Dick rolled his eyes before nudging Jason out of the way with his foot so he could take the controls.  He opened up the navigation system, deftly inputting the coordinates from Damian’s tracking chip. He really, really hated Santa Prisca.

 

            Three and a half hours later, they were finally nearing Santa Prisca. It was finally because over the course of the trip, Dick had threatened four separate times to use the ejector seat if Jason and Tim hadn't stopped arguing, they'd played the quiet game twelve times, and Jason had checked and rechecked each of his guns at least two dozen times.

            Before the island was in view over the horizon, Dick sent the Batjet into a steep dive before pulling up just above the wave tops. He didn't want to give Bane's goons any advance warning that they were coming. A flashing light on the panel in front of him caused his eyes to glance down. Someone, which meant Barbara, was trying to get a lock on their GPS signal.

            "Jason."

            "What, asshole?"

            "The flashing panel to your right. Punch it." There was a stunned silence for a few moments before Jason spoke.

            "What?"

            "Jason, I'm telling you to break something in this damn plane. Do it before I change my mind." Dick heard a snort of what he could only assume was pure glee from behind him before the crash of glass followed. The flashing light in front of him faded to black.

            "Mind telling me what that was?" He knew Jason really didn't care what it was he just broke, but wanted to know if it was something important he could brag about later.

            "The jet's GPS tracking system. Babs was trying to find us." Dick turned to see Jason shrug, sliding his gloved hands behind his head. Timmy's eyes were wide.

            "Oh she is so going to kill us, isn't she?"

            "Boy Worrier, you speak too much." Dick rolled his eyes.

            "Don't worry, Timmy. I'll just tell Oracle this was all my fault. She'll believe me. And send my count up a few... hundred more." He pushed the Batjet even lower as the island, still dark in the predawn light, began coming into view. Dick reached above him, hitting a few switches to send the jet into stealth mode. While screaming engines of fire would certainly get them to their destination faster, it would not be so good on the stealthy end of things.

            He pulled the Batjet up to just above treetop level as they zipped over the beach. Dick knew from previous missions to the island where the main factory was, and the most likely place Damien was being held. He swung the jet around and set it down in a small clearing about a mile from that location.

            After shutting down the Batjet and locking it down as well, Dick led both his brothers down the ramp. As he stepped out, his feet sinking ever so slightly into the most earth of this Caribbean hellhole, Dick heard the unmistakable scrape of metal on leather directly behind him. He twirled, crouching down, only to see Jason standing on the ramp, frozen, a gun in his grip.

            "No. Guns." The words were forced out through clenched teeth.

            "Aw, c'mon Nightwing. I didn't fly more than three thousand miles just to punch a bunch of guys in the face."

            "No, Hood. We flew over three thousand miles to rescue our brother. And since I know you don't carry silencers for those things... no guns." Jason tried to stare his older brother down for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly, holstering his pistol and pulling his helmet down over his head.

            The three boys moved quickly but quietly through the jungle. It wasn't the first time any of them had been to the island. Dick's mind drifted back to one of the first times he'd been to Santa Prisca. What had been given as a simple recon mission turned into the entire venom factory being destroyed. He smiled. Jason would have been proud.

            The rebuilt factory came into view as they got to the edge of a cliff. Security seemed lighter than Dick remembered it, but he wasn't complaining. The three of them scaled the cliff quickly, dodged a passing guard, and made it to a side door.

            Quickly, he started tapping away at his wrist computer while Jason and Timmy stood watch. Dick tapped a few buttons, trying some basic attacks to get past the door's security. Those attacks were rebuffed and he frowned. He hadn't expected higher levels of security on something like a side door.

            "Hey, Hack Wonder, let's get a move on. It won't be long before that guard comes back around."

            "Because heckling from the peanut gallery makes this whole thing so much easier, Hood." He frowned as his typing grew more frenetic. The first layer of security was down, but there was something that wasn't right...

            "Uh, Nightwing? He's coming back." That was Tim's voice, slightly worried in tone as Dick's fingers continued to fly over his holographic keyboard. He wished Barbara were here.

            The door slid open. "Inside. Move." Timmy raced past him into the factory, but Dick had to grab Jason by the collar of his leather coat and drag him into the building before he could grab his gun to aim at the approaching guard. Once inside, Timmy hit a panel beside the door and it slid shut.

            The three moved almost silently through the factory. When they found a computer terminal, Dick stopped, hooking a small cord into a port. Timmy looked over his shoulder while Jason sighed heavily.

            "I thought we were here to rescue the brat, not check status updates." Jason's voice was low, but a growl. Dick knew he was getting impatient.

            "I'm hacking into their security cameras, Red. Unless you suddenly developed a keen sense of smell or the big guy's X-ray vision, this will be the quickest way to find him." Dick's fingers flew over his keyboard. Security inside the factory was easier than the outside. An alarm bell went off in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

            "There!" Timmy pointed to the upper part of the screen, drawing Dick's eyes to a small figure clad in red and black with green combat boots.

            "Bingo. Level three, room 16." A few more taps onto the keyboard and Dick smiled. "Security cameras are now all on a loop. Let's move." Dick unplugged his wrist computer from the terminal, and the three were off again.

            It took them about twenty minutes, dodging a few factory workers and guards, before they reached the hallway where Damian was being held. Dick kneeled down, reaching into his belt for tools to pick the lock on the door, when suddenly it flew open with a bang, a black booted foot by his head. His eyes narrowed as he glared up at Jason.

            "Way to be stealthy, Hood. We're lucky the whole area didn't hear that."

            "I'm tired of this sneaking around bullshit, Nightwing. They took our brother. I'm here for a fight." The three of them walked into the room, and Dick immediately cringed. He could tell, even from this distance, that there was something wrong with Damian. He was slumped, mouth open against his collar bone, restraints behind the chair the only thing keeping him even semi-upright.

            "Red, check his vitals. Hood, keep watch on the door... quietly."

            "And what about you? Observing me standing watch?"

            "I'm going to find out what's going on here." Dick quickly moved over to a computer in the room as Timmy rushed over to Damian. Jason shrugged and leaned against the doorframe, his hand resting against a pistol.

            Dick slid a small thumb drive into a port on the computer. "What is it with you and these damn computers, Nightwing," came Jason's exasperated voice near the door.

            "I want to know why they took Robin, Hood. I want to know what they wanted with him." He punched the enter key and a progress bar appeared on screen. "I'll figure it out back at the cave."

            "He's breathing but he's drugged. Something strong. Pulse is pretty weak," Tim said, trying to open Damian's eyes to get a look at his pupils.

            "See if you can get him upright. If not, we carry him out." Dick typed a few keystrokes while staring intently at the computer, his foot tapping nervously. The progress bar continued to scroll.

            Timmy reached behind Damian to cut the restraints on his wrists. As he did, Damian's chair tipped back ever so slightly. Alarms suddenly rang out all throughout the factory.

            "Aw, shit. Carrying him it is." Jason sprinted over to Tim and Damian, helping cut remaining restraints quickly with the knife from his boot before putting his shoulder into the boy's stomach and lifting him over his shoulder. "Time to go, Nightwing."

            "I know, I know..." Dick stared at the progress bar for a few seconds until it flashed "Complete". He grabbed the thumb drive out of the port, slid it into his belt, and then destroyed the computer screen with a quick shot from one of his escrima sticks. "Alright, let's get out of here.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the girls plan their next move, the Bat boys scramble in a race against time and an ever-growing number of foes to get their youngest brother off of Santa Prisca before it is too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you to everyone who has been reading! We really appreciate your feedback and support. Second, we don't own DC. My partner handled the fight scenes here, and we would like to apologize in advance if this part hurts your feels. I find the Bat boys are generally good at that.

            Nothing was how it should have been. Cass sat perched on a table pressed up against the wall.  She had made sure her back was to the wall, her eyes able to see everyone in the room at the same time.  Every person, and every possible entry into the Clock Tower.  She allowed her concentration to shift in and out of the conversation happening around her.  While she could understand their words just fine, she preferred to watch.  The way the three other women in the room held themselves, their ticks and quarks gave her more than enough information anyway.

            “So you’re telling me,” Artemis’s voice cut into Cass’s thoughts, drawing her eyes to the only person in the room she didn’t trust indisputably, “you’re telling me that you found out about a kidnapping plot against Damian Wayne? That you brought this information to the boys, and Dick tried to brush it off?”  Cass caught Barbara nodding along.  “And then,” Artemis continued, “and then the little monster goes out and gets himself kidnapped on purpose?”

            Cass found herself nodding along with Barbara this time.  She loved Damian, she loved all of her brothers, but there were times that they could be so… so infuriatingly stupid.

            “They went after him,” Stephanie added in, coming to stand beside Barbara, her hand resting on the older woman’s shoulder.

            “Not really helping their case, Steph,” Barbara said with a heavy sigh.  She cocked her head to the side, looking up at Artemis slyly.

            “Remember when you and I used to scramble the password for our GPSs?” she asked.  Artemis snorted, the corners of her lips quirking up in a smile.  Cass couldn’t help but like the way she did that.

            “You mean when you worked your computer magic? I’m science and literature, Barb.  Computers is a Bat-specialty.”

            “Yeah, well, let’s just say I am seriously regretting telling Tim about that.” Barbara said with a shrug, her eyes flickering back to a blinking on her screen.

            “They want to do this on their own,” Cass said, finally allowing herself into the conversation.

            The tall blonde spun around, her hand already reaching for the crossbow at her hip.  Cass did her best impersonation of a smile.  She liked that the archer hadn’t realized she was there.  Cass liked even more that the other woman was alert and ready for danger. She could appreciate someone with quick instincts even if Artemis did need to work on knowing her surroundings.

            “But it doesn’t make it okay,” Cass added simply. She glanced back at Barbara, who was sighing again.

            “No,” Artemis agreed. Cass watched the ease with which the archer’s hands came away from the weapon, her arms crossing over her chest. “Dick already knows what happens when people decide they need to do things on their own.”

            The way the silence fell upon the room made Cass want to hold her breath.  The looks on both Barbara and Artemis’s faces spoke of loss and pain.  Even Steph was frozen, all of the energy draining out of her.  It was more feelings in one room that Cass was comfortable handling.

            “So…” Artemis said finally shattering the dull ache that had been griping the room.  “So, are they still in the city?”

            “I doubt it,” Barbara offered.  Cass could tell she was more than happy to be back to work and away from the past.  “They’d want to get out, and fast.”

            Artemis seemed to consider this a moment, her face screwing up in extreme concentration.  Cass appreciated that look as well.  She decided that it was one she would practice later.

            “Doesn’t Batman have a plane, or something?” Artemis asked, the tone of her voice suggesting she wasn’t completely serious.  Cass had been trying very hard lately to better understand tone.  The way a person used their words, she was beginning to understand, could be just as important as how they held their bodies.

            “Yes,” Stephanie supplied. “But, c’mon they wouldn’t be that stupid?  To steal from the Boss?” Cass began nodding her head from the shadows as she saw Barbara roll her eyes.

            “Please,” the redhead said.  “Jason has hotwired, “borrowed,” or otherwise stolen three separate “bat” things this month alone.”

            Artemis threw her hands into the air. “A plane, the man has a freaking plane.”

            “Three,” Cass offered, her eyes never leavening Barbara who now whipped her chair around to one of her secondary computer screens. Her long fingers flicked out over the keys at a rapid pace.

            “I think…” Barbara said, her teeth pulling at her lip anxiously.  “I’m locking in on them now!” she announced, one hand clenching quickly in victory, eyes lighting up and following the coordinates as they flew across the screen before –

            Cass tried not to flinch as Barbara brought her fist down on the table. “I’m going to kill them,” Barbara muttered under her breath.  “All of them.”

            “Give me something, Babs,” Artemis begged coming to crouch besides Barbara’s chair.

            Cass turned her eyes towards Stephanie, watching the way she bounced on the balls of her heels, the way she held her hands close to her sides, and tried to muster up a smile when she finally noticed Cass was watching her.  Hope, Cass decided.  Stephanie looked like hope.

            “The last bit I got from them places them somewhere in the Caribbean,” Barbara announced. But the way she said it – Cass thought it sounded defeated; sounded like something Barbara had already know, but desperately wanted to be inaccurate.

            “The island?” Artemis and Steph asked at the same time.  Barbara nodded grimly.

            “It all fits too well,” she said apprehension coating every word.  “I feel like there were too many clues.  I wanted it to be someplace else because then it wouldn’t have been so…”

            “Obvious?” Steph offered, her eyes darting around to the different computer screens.  “It’s a trap isn’t it?” she asked finally.  Barbara wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze.  No one there needed to hear it aloud.  It was a trap, all right, and three boys blinded by their desire to get back their little brother, had just walked right into it.

\---

This was not how Jason had intended to spend his night.  It had started out fine, a call from Babs, the promise of food, even if he did have to put up with his “family” to get it.  Now he was running, with a pair of stupid green boots bouncing painfully into his stomach.

            “Unhand me, peasant,” the kid mumbled into his shoulder blade.  Jason did not envy the headache Damian was going to have when he finally came back to reality – but it did serve the monster right for being an absolute dumbass. He was far too young to go out looking for so much trouble.

            “Not now, Brat.” Jason told him over the screech of alarms and the clomping of goons running through the halls after them.  Jason was very glad to have Timmy in the lead.  All of the hallways had looked the same to him on the way in, and they were only blurring together more as they sprinted towards what he hoped was going to be the exit.  He shifted the kid’s weight ever so slightly on his shoulder, making damn sure he could still reach a set of holsters.

            “How’s he doing, Hood?” Nightwing called glancing back at him.

            “Heavier than I remember,” Jason answered, twisting his body slightly to avoid ramming the kid into the wall as he took the corner a little too fast.

            “No!” Jason had to clench his arm tightly around Damian’s body as the kid began to struggle.  His speech was still slurred as his fits began pounding weakly on Jason’s back.

            “You’re not…no! Take me back!” he demanded.

            “I’ll get right on that, your highness,” Jason bit back.  “Nightwing, he doesn’t seem very grateful to me.”  Nightwing just shrugged in front of him.

            “Fools…You absolute imbeciles…” Jason couldn’t help but wish the drugs had lasted just a little bit longer.

            “Tell you what kid,” he said.  “The next time you go and get yourself kidnapped, we’ll just leave you.” He paused slightly to readjust, the boots now bouncing against the side of his ribs.  Damian responded with a sick moan.

            “So help me, _Robin_ , if you puke on my jacket, I will drop you.”  Jason rounded the next corner and just barely avoided running head long into Nightwing, who had apparently not been able to avoid crashing into the back of Red Robin.  They had reached a crossroad.  Bane’s goons were closing in on them from three sides, the fourth, the furthest from the middle of this intersection from hell – was still clear.  Dick turned to face him, a grim set to his mouth.  Neither one of them needed to discuss what was about to happen.

            “Red Robin,” Nightwing started, back to being the self assured leader Jason was used to.  Timmy spun to face him, his panic evident despite the mask.

            “No, Di – Nightwing! Don’t do this.”

            “You’re going to take Robin, and you’re going to get him out of here.”

Jason was already in the process setting the kid down on his feet.  Damian managed to remain standing, but barely.  The smallest of them swayed dangerously, his hands scrubbing over his face as if that was going to help him clear his mind of the drugs they’d pumped him full of.

            “It’s a trap,” he mumbled weakly.

            “No kidding,” Jason agreed starting to do a quick head count. He turned to face Timmy.  “Take the kid and go,” he said, nudging Damian towards Tim.

            “No!” Tim replied, but he held out a hand to steady Damian all the same.  “I can help, I can …”

            “Timmy,” Jason said quietly, knowing the Big Guy would have his head for using civilian names in the field.   “There comes a time in every man’s life where he’s got to shut the hell up and do what he’s told.” The younger boy turned to face him.

            “Yeah, and when was that time for you?”

            “It hasn't happened yet.” Despite the situation, he heard Dick snort sharply. “But your time is now. Do as Dickie Bird says, take the kid, and go. We got this." Tim opened his mouth to protest again, but a short shake of Dick's head cut him off. Resigned, he lowered his head before sliding Damian's arm over his shoulders. With a slight shove to his back, Jason sent the two of them towards the open exit.

\---

            Dick watched his two brothers move toward the exit, though certainly not as quickly as he'd hoped. Tim wasn't as strong as Jason, so he wouldn't be carrying Damian, but Dick knew that he and Jason were capable of holding off Bane's thugs long enough for them to escape. They had to.

            “So... we got this, huh?” He smiled at Jason as the two of them moved closer to the center of the crossroads, Dick already pulling out his escrima sticks.

            “Sure, just like old times,” Jason responded, cracking his knuckles as he eyed the goons from under his helmet.

            “Back to back?” Dick twirled the escrima sticks in his hands, eyes narrowing as he stared down the thugs who continued advancing closer. He noticed they were leaving their guns holstered, and smiled for small miracles.

            “Unless you have a better idea?” He shook his head at Jason's response.

            “The last time we fought back to back, you broke my nose. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't going to happen again.” There was a pause as Jason's hands dropped to his side.

            “That was one. Time. You really need to let that go, Nightwing."

            “You broke my nose!”

            “Your nose tried to break my fist.” Dick shook his head. Jason was almost never intentionally cheery, except when situations seemed most dire. Dick had asked him about it once, and Jason's answer had been something to the effect of when you've died once, the prospect of doing it again doesn't seem nearly as scary.

            Dick's attention snapped back into focus as he heard Jason draw one of his pistols. “No guns, Hood.”

            “But Nightwing...” the younger man motioned vaguely towards the thugs.

            “No. Guns. There's only ten of them. We've faced worse odds before.”

            “How sad is it that we consider ten on two “good” odds?” Dick smirked in response.

            “It means he taught us well." Bane's thugs drew closer. “Here we go, for the hundredth time.”

            Dick took a step forward as two thugs came rushing at him from opposite sides. As it seemed to with all fights, the action seemed to slow for Dick. The guy on his right swung, a long looping punch that Dick had seen, and dodged, countless times before. He didn't think he'd been hit with a shot like that since one of his first missions with Batman. Dick ducked under the wild haymaker, jamming his escrima stick into the goon's kidney. As the man shouted, Dick shifted his weight to his right leg and fired a kick at the other thug's knee. The man went down with a howl as his knee made an unnatural crackling sound. In a flash, Dick stood, swinging his other escrima stick against the back of the first thug's head, sending him crashing down in a heap.

            He heard a grunt from behind him and turned to see Jason stagger a few feet, holding his jaw. The bigger man dove at his attacker, tackling him to the ground before mounting him and quickly firing three punches into his face. The goon lay still. Jason quickly jumped off of him to fire two punches into another thug's midsection, before a strong uppercut sent the man flying through the air and crashing back down to earth.

            Dick's head turned as a battle cry sounded near him. Pushing a hand into the ground, he launched himself into a back handspring, landing in a crouched position. A much bigger thug continued in, swinging wildly. Dick leaned back from one punch, ducked another, and then went to work. An escrima stick to the man's side, another to the other side, and a shot to each side of his head dazed the man before Dick wound up and used both sticks right across the man's chin, snapping his head around.

            With half of the bad guys down, Dick noticed Jason started to show off a little. His hands by his sides, he leaned back twice as a thug swung at him before grabbing the man's collar and throwing him into another. He then calmly walked over and cracked their heads together, effectively ending their nights.

            Dick grinned and dropped low as another goon came in, sweeping his leg behind his to send the masked man crashing to the ground. He then planted that same foot as he stood, his leg flying through the air, his heel connecting with a second goon's temple. That man fell like a sack of bricks.

            A slight... _cooing_ caught Dick's ear, and he turned, escrima sticks ready only to see Jason holding the last thug in a rear chokehold with one arm, the other hand stroking the top of his head.

            “Time to go to sleep, little bad guy,” he said, patting him as the man's legs struggled and kicked before finally going still as Jason dropped him to the floor.

            “There,” Jason said, placing his hands on his hips. “That wasn't so hard was it?” Before Dick could answer, more thugs started streaming in, at least twice as many as before. He turned to look at his younger brother.

            “You just had to say it, didn't you?”

\---

            Of course he had to say it. Who did Dick think he was, Timmy? Someone who just cracks some skulls, wipes the dirt off his hands, and then wait for Daddy Brucie to tell him what to do next? No. Dick had fought him, and beside him, for too long. Dick knew he was the type of guy to kick an unconscious thug, light a match off his chest, and smoke a cigarette in celebration as he sat on them.

            He felt his brother's back against his as the new wave of thugs started coming at them. Jason wasn't sure if this had been Bane's plan, or if this was just when the new guys got here, but this wasn't going to be all fun and games again. Ten on two was something they had both encountered quite often flying around with Batman. This was closer to twenty on two, and even as experienced as they both were from years of training and fighting, Jason didn't like those odds.

            As the first thugs reached them, Jason struck. With elbows and fists flying, he leapt into one goon, cracking him across the chin with an elbow. A knee to the stomach and a kick sent him flying back into another goon. The sharp pain of a fist connecting with his midsection pushed the air from Jason’s lungs quickly, and he gasped as he ducked another swing. He planted his feet and sent a fist hurtling into the man's chin, a grimace appearing under the mask as he felt pain shooting up his side. There was at least one broken rib there, but he'd fought through worse.

            Jason reached back to feel for his brother, but felt nothing but air. He spun, ducking another wild swing as he did so, to see Dick somersaulting and twirling through a gang of enemies at least as big as his. His escrima sticks moved faster than Jason's eye could track, and an explosion of light emitted from the end of one into a thug's chest as Dick electrocuted one of them. Jason smirked, but reached down and pulled out his two guns from his thigh holsters and fired off a few rapid shots from his knees at Bane's thugs. One by one, they started to fall.

            “Hood!” Jason knew that was coming. “I told you not to use guns!”

            "You told me we were fighting back to back!" He fired off another couple of shots. The advantage of knowing Dick would chastise him was also having a witty comeback waiting. Dick paused for a moment, opening his mouth to say something before back flipping over a lunging attack from another thug.

            "Fine, use the guns. Just don't kill them." Jason rolled his eyes. In fact, he rolled his eyes so much he was sure Dick could see it even through his helmet.

            "Yes, Oracle." Okay, that one may have been a low blow. But it had been building for most of the night. Jason could tell that it hurt Dick. It physically stunned him. It was the first time Jason had ever seen his older brother freeze in battle, and Dick paid for it with a shot across the jaw from some opportunistic thug. That same opportunistic thug then tried to get in another shot as Dick crumpled to the floor. A well-placed bullet from Jason's pistol through the man's knee ended any notion of that quickly.

            And a shot to his kidneys from a goon who had come up on him from behind quickly ended any notion that Jason had that he and Dick had the upper hand in this fight. Jason spun, still on his knees, and sprayed into the crowd of goons. Efficient? No. Effective? The number of howls and thugs dropping to the ground, plus the slowed advance of the gang as a whole told him it was.

            He glanced back to check on Dick, who was just getting up from the ground and swung a leg at two thugs trying to keep him there, knocking them flat on their backs. As Jason turned back, a fist connected hard with his jaw, sending the helmet flying from his head. He could still feel the domino mask around his eyes, but now he was pissed. Jason lunged for the helmet, but a kick to his left wrist made his hand go numb. The pistol went flying out of his hand, clattering against the ground. He grimaced in pain and leveled the pistol at the man who had kicked him. A squeeze of the trigger and the man dropped, clutching his shoulder. Jason scurried over and grabbed the helmet, swinging it back around into the thug's head. He lay still.

            Getting to his feet, Jason began working methodically. Shoot, shoot, swing helmet, shoot, swing helmet, shoot, click. Use gun as a hammer. Swing helmet. Drop first gun, grab other gun from the ground. Shoot, shoot, swing helmet. He continued to take the sporadic hit once in a while, but he was doing a lot more damage than they were doing to him. But he couldn't help but notice the new wave of thugs streaming into the crossroads. With a yell, he ran right at them, swinging his helmet into two other goons before winding up and launching it as hard as he could at a thug running towards him.

            This was not at all how he had intended on spending his night.

\---

            Even over an escrima stick electrocuting another of Bane's thugs, Dick heard Jason yell. He saw his younger brother throw, yes throw, his helmet at a new group of goons running into the crossroads. Dick mentally went over the odds in his head. They weren't good to say the least, but Jason's strategy was probably best. Full frontal assault to catch them as off guard as possible. Twirling his escrima sticks, Dick charged into the fray after his brother.

            As he reached the outer edge, Jason was already buried deep within the swarming mass, which Dick estimated to be at least thirty strong. Dick swung, one escrima stick connecting with a goon's face before he jumped into the air, contorting his body sideways to avoid a thug diving at him. Rolling off the man's back, he ducked down, swinging a leg out in a sweep that knocked two more thugs to the ground. He planted his escrima sticks into their chests and pressed the end, sending more electricity into their bodies.

            But there was a problem. One of his sticks sputtered and died, out of juice. The other had an indicator light on it that said its energy level was dangerously low as well. It seemed he'd have to start doing things the old fashioned way again. In a fluid motion, Dick stood and jumped, launching a spinning kick to a thug's face. Landing back on earth, he swung his escrima sticks rapidly, moving around the blocking attempts of another goon before grabbing the back of the man's head and smashing it down against his raised knee.

            Dick could see Jason doing what he did best: brawling. His younger brother was punching, shooting, pistol whipping, and kicking the thugs around him as fast as possible. It wasn't the most efficient form of fighting, but right now simply causing as much pain to the enemy might be the most effective strategy. Dick saw Jason drop a pistol, out of ammunition, and grab two more from his shoulder holsters.

            While Jason's brawling mentality was well suited to large numbers of enemies, the sheer concentration of Bane's thugs was making it difficult for Dick to fight the way he preferred. He didn't have the space for his more fluid fighting style, and it was showing. As the thugs pressed in tighter, they began landing more and more shots. One of them pulled a knife and came in swinging wildly, forcing Dick to retreat. One swing sliced through his sleeve, cutting into his skin. A sharp hiss escaped from his lips and Dick leapt back as the thug kept coming. As much as he wanted to keep his attention solely on the knife-wielding thug, a fist flew in and connected with his ribs. Dick fell to one knee, his breathing labored. Another swing of the knife sliced open the chest of his outfit, a thin red line of blood beginning to trickle out. Scowling, Dick took both escrima sticks and brought them up under the man's chin. He flew back into another thug with a crash.

            Deciding he needed more distance, Dick back flipped backwards, only to land on the body of a thug either he or Jason had dispatched earlier. Pain like fire shot up his leg, and he let out a small yell as he grabbed at his ankle. Looking up, he saw Jason being grabbed by three thugs, with more trying to pull him to the ground or coming in to take swings at him. A thug stepped forward, laughing lightly.

            "Bane said you boys wouldn't be much trouble. Not sure where these fearsome reputations have come from. You're just boys in over your head." Dick smirked through the pain as he got to his feet.

            "Yeah, well, we're used to that." Dropping an escrima stick, Dick grabbed a batarang from his belt and threw it at the thug. The man ducked, and the batarang flew past him. He chuckled.

            "Looks like you missed, little birdie." A soft chuckle escaped Dick's lips in all the chaos.

            "No, it just went over your head," he taunted. Behind the thug, the batarang flew right at the thugs dog piling Jason. It embedded itself into the back of one of the goons for a half second, before exploding with a grey gas. The thugs all started coughing as the gas enveloped them. When it cleared a few seconds later, Jason was standing over a group of unconscious thugs. Dick smiled.

            "Neat trick, bird boy, but that won't help you with me." The thug started forward, raising his knife when a shot rang out, catching the man in the back of his knee. As he crumpled down to the ground with an agonized scream, Dick looked up to see Jason aiming a pistol in the thug's direction, nodding as he pulled another from the back of his pants. The older man nodded back at his younger brother as he walked over to the thug, who was still clutching his knee, and sent him into darkness with a kick to his face.

            Another of Bane's thugs was sent flying by a kick to the chest when Dick felt a sting in his neck, just above the collar of his armor. He shook his head, not sure what it was, when that old familiar feeling began creeping up on him.

            That feeling like the walls were closing in. That feeling like he couldn't breathe. That feeling like he was failing, over and over again. He stumbled. Dick tried to rub his eyes through his mask. It literally felt like the walls were actually moving closer, like the floor was tilting wildly. He blinked heavily, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, opening them just in time to see an assailant come at him, swinging wildly. Dick barely ducked, more like staggered, out of the way, and landed his foot into the back of the man's knee as he tried to catch his breath.

            What was happening? He hadn't had a panic attack like this in years, not since... not since Wally died. That one had lasted for hours. He shook his head again, trying to push back the walls that were closing in through shear force of will. ‘ _Snap out of it, Grayson,_ ’ he thought to himself. ‘ _You're better than this; you can beat this. Just breathe._ ’

            He started sucking in deep, slow breaths and the world started closing in a little less. Things seemed to stabilize. Not return to normal. No, normal was a long way off with whatever he'd been hit with. But it seemed like he was starting to improve. And that, in and of itself, was a good thing. The goon whose knee he'd ruined started to turn, reaching for something. An escrima stick to the head ended any notion of that quickly.

            What was happening? His mind was so cloudy, his vision so blurry. He again started to feel like he couldn't breathe. How long had it been since fear had overtaken him like this? The word struck him. Fear. He'd been hit with something, he knew that, and it had instantly triggered a panic attack. There was only one man who he knew could do this. Dick staggered again, holding his head.

“Hood...” he managed to rasp out, before a hand wrapped around his chest. Dick felt a body behind his, and then cold metal pressed against his neck.

\---

            Jason heard Dick call his name, even over the repeated staccato of his pistols. His aim was getting, well, let's just say he wasn't taking Dick's earlier order of “just don't kill them” quite as much to heart anymore. Jason wasn't aiming for kill shots, he just didn't particularly care if they died at the moment. Jason fired another shot, which was followed by another of Bane's goons crumpling to the floor. There wasn't even enough time to pivot towards Dick before the next voice spoke.

            “That's enough, Red Hood." The voice was sharp, guttural, and modified. Jason knew who it was before he even turned to look, a pistol raised at the voice's owner.

            “Scarecrow.” The burlap bag mask for a face with glowing red eyes and a gas mask for a mouth was recognizable anywhere. He held a silver applicator gun to Dick's neck, and Jason's pistol was aiming directly for his forehead. “Give it up, hay bag. It's a pretty easy shot from this range.” His other hand held his second pistol in the opposite direction, attempting to deter any remaining thugs from thinking now would be a good time to make a run at him. A twitch of movement from one of the goons drew his eye from Dick for the briefest of seconds.

            “That may be, Red Hood, but it’s also a 'pretty easy shot' from _this_ range.” Scarecrow squeezed his finger on the applicator's trigger as Jason's eyes flashed back to him, and Jason immediately saw Dick's body seize. His own finger tightened on the trigger of the pistol he held.

            “I said that's enough, Mister Hood. Lower your weapons, or he gets a third dose. And I'm quite sure that will kill him. I'd rather not do that.”

            “A third dose of what, Scarecrow?” Jason's voice remained hard; his eyes focused on the glowing red targets the man holding his brother was providing for him. He knew Dick wasn't faking. Scarecrow never would have been able to get the jump on him when the original Boy Wonder was one hundred percent. And Dick's reaction after Scarecrow injected him a second time wasn't acting. Something was in that vial, Jason just didn't know what. He did not lower his pistols.

            “A new and improved Nightmare toxin, Red Hood. Combined with venom, it's now more powerful, more concentrated. It _feeds_ off adrenaline. Adrenaline makes it work faster, more potently. The nightmares are said to be much more... vivid.” Jason watched as Scarecrow pulled Dick even closer to him, the man's thump flicking over another switch on the applicator, loading a third dose. “To be quite honest, I'm not sure what I've already given Nightwing won't kill him. I've never tried giving someone a double dose before. But I know a third will end his life. Put your weapons down.” Jason hesitated again. So that's why they'd kidnapped the little brat. They wanted someone to experiment on who had experience with high doses of adrenaline. Or maybe it was just a trap set up for the rest of the bat boys, one they had all plunged into headlong. Jason's jaw clenched before his arms relaxed.

            “Don't kill him, Scarecrow. I...” he swallowed hard. His next words sounded like they were being squeezed out of him. In a sense, they were. “I surrender.” As Jason flipped the pistols around so they were facing grip out in his hands, he saw Dick's eyes roll back into his head.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Batboys are captured. Now, they are all spectators of Scarecrow's sick and twisted experiments. And for one of the boys, he must face his toughest opponent yet: his very own nightmares.

**_Chapter Five_ **

****

            The second shot of the new and improved Nightmare toxin had hit Dick with more force than any punch he'd ever received in his life. It was almost as if he could feel his veins open, feel the adrenaline pump into his system, a blazing fire and cooling water combined. He could literally feel his pupils dilate as his vision swam, and became fuzzy as he tried to blink it away. Dick could see Jason, extending his pistols, surrendering. He didn't know if Tim and Damian had gotten away; he hoped they had. Holding off enemies was something Dick Grayson was a practiced hand in, and Jason was one of the toughest men he knew, Bruce included. They could hold off long enough for help to arrive. Dick didn't know it yet, but that was the last rational thought he'd have for a while.

 

            His eyes rolled back into his head.

 

            When he opened his eyes, Dick was standing on a platform high above a dirt floor. The top of the black and orange circus tent was so close he could almost touch it. Dick glanced down; his clothes had changed. Instead of his Nightwing outfit, he now wore navy blue pants, and a red, sleeveless spandex top with gold wings near his ribs. As he looked up, the crowd roared.

            "And now, for their final trick, the magnificent Flying Graysons will perform without the aid of a net." Dick immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Jack Haley, but couldn't see him. In fact, he couldn't see the crowd that roared its approval either, ready for the family, his family's famous final act. Movement to his right caught his eye, and he froze as he saw red hair cascading down the back of a costume similar to his own.

            "Mom!" The words were shouted, but his mother made no movement that she could hear him. "MOM!" Her head turned ever so slightly.

            "Stay here, my little robin," her voice was soft, familiar. A smile creased her face. "Stay here where it is safe." Dick saw her leap from the platform, her hands clenched around the trapeze. Movement to his left startled him for a moment, and he saw his father wink before leaping out as well. Across the tent, his aunt, uncle, and cousin all swung outward for the daring final act.

            Everything moved in slow motion. He wanted to scream a warning, wanted to tell them to stop, to come back to the platform. To come back to where it was safe. Dick knew exactly where to look, knew where to spot the rope snapping. He heard the shriek of the crowd. The shriek from his mother. They all fell in slow motion, eyes wide, terror painting their faces as they fell, rather than flew, through the air.

            Dick placed a hand against the support beam holding the platform and lunged off after his family. Things moved quicker now, but so did his brain. If he could catch them, he could turn and use his grappling hook, save them. One of his own hands brushing against his hip told him that his utility belt, and therefore his grappling hook, was not there. It didn't matter. If he could just catch them, he could find a way to save them. If he could just catch them, he could find a way to save them all.

            He drew closer to his mother, his arms outstretched for her as she reached back for him. Dick stretched, trying to increase his reach, trying for every inch he could get. If he could just catch her, he could save her.

            The ground was approaching fast behind her. And then it wasn't. The ground opened up into a massive black hole, a maw to swallow them all as they fell. Dick still stretched out his hands to his mother. If he could just catch her, he could save her.

            His eyes were locked with hers. Dick's fingers inched outward, almost brushing hers. And then she disappeared. Her image, her form, dissolved into the blackness. That same blackness swallowed Dick's scream, and he turned at the very last instant to the see the final speck of orange and black from the circus tent blink away as he continued to fall.

 

***

 

            Jason did his best impersonation of the infamous Batman scowl as he was marched down the hallway, one of his own guns pressing tightly in to the back of his head.  Four goons had been appropriated, just for him. He had one on either side, each gripping an arm.  Two more walked behind him, the one on the left holding the gun to the base of his skull.  They didn’t need to bother, Jason wasn’t going anywhere.  Not while two other men dragged the unconscious Nightwing in front of him.  Scarecrow was at the head of this precession from Hell.

            “My associate has already been notified of your capture,” the masked man informed him.  “It won’t be too long before all four of you can be reunited.”

            “Fat chance,” Jason scoffed.  “Those kids are already off the fucking island by now.” He hopped they were at least out of the factory.

            “Your bravado is amusing, if unnecessary,” Scarecrow informed him coldly.  “Besides, I feel as though they wouldn’t leave you and Nightwing behind.  You’re always looking out for each other, aren’t you?  Isn’t that what got you into this mess?”

            Jason didn’t answer.  It was pretty hard to think up some scathing remark while Dick spasmed on the floor in front of him. He could feel his stomach twisting in knots.  How the hell was he going to get them out of this?

            “Here we are!” Scarecrow chirped happily as he came to a stop.  He turned to address the two men dragging Dick.  “Get him tied to the chair and hooked up to the monitor. I don’t want to miss any more of these beautiful visions he must be having.”

            “If you think for one minute that I’m going to let him out of my-” Jason started to yell as the men pulled Dick through the door.  Scarecrow waved off his concerns, as well as the man pressing the cold steal of his pistol into his head.

            “Mister Hood, please. You’re in no position to make demands.  However, this room here is for you, and the two younger brats once they’ve been found.” He opened this door with a flourish. “From here, you’ll be able to see everything.”  The men holding him shoved Jason roughly into the room, almost sending him to his knees. He stumbled to a stop in front of a ceiling to floor window.  On the other side of the glass, Dick was being manhandled into a chair. 

The original Boy Wonder twisted and jerked, his head slamming against the chair back as they pressed small pads onto his temples. The Scarecrow came to stand in the doorway, just far enough out of Jason’s reach.

            “ _If_ he comes to, he won’t see anything but a mirror, himself – his own suffering.  But you…you’ll get to see every painful twitch and shudder.  You’ll be able to hear every pathetic, wounded moan escape his lips.”  Jason wanted to rush him, to make him hurt, to break something, but he knew whatever he did would only bring Dick more pain.  He would bide his time, for now.  “Don’t worry, Red Hood, you’ll be able to see everything, even the visions in his head.” With a click of a remote, a large screen descended from the ceiling in Dick’s room.  “My men already have it recording, but I’ll wait to turn it on until you have some more company, hmm?  Enjoy the show, Mister Hood.” And with that, the Scarecrow exited, the door slamming shut behind him.

            Jason could feel his stomach drop as he turned his eyes towards Nightwing.  He already knew about some of the things that haunted Dick’s dreams.  The two of them had spent long nights in Eastern Europe drinking and fighting each other instead of dealing with their own demons.  He wasn’t sure he was prepared to witness them first hand. 

 

***

 

           The deep purple of the bioship's interior wall stared back at him. Dick felt M'gann expertly swing her baby around and lower it towards the ground. The second the white daylight of the arctic pierced the darkness of the bioship's hold, he was sprinting out. Dick was vaguely aware of Artemis right beside him, but his larger concern was the spinning tornado of energy in front of him. It was the magnetic field disrupter gone chrysalis, and the only hope of stopping it was the three speedsters currently running in the opposite direction of the energy tornado's flow. Well, two speedsters and his best friend.

            "Come on. Enjoy the moment, my friend. You've earned it." Wally's last words echoed in his head. Dick knew what was coming. This scene had replayed over in his mind dozens, if not hundreds, of times in the past three-plus years.

            "Look, it's working! They're shutting it down!" Dick heard the words come out of his mouth, saw his arm point towards the stream of energy the speedsters were putting out to counter the chrysalis. But he wasn't making those movements. He wasn't saying those words. It was like he was a spectator inside his own body to a movie he had seen far too many times, to a film he already knew the heart-wrenching, horrible ending to.

            And then everything slowed down. He could suddenly see the speedsters running. Dick could see Barry and Bart, clear as day, but saw his best friend like he was looking right through him. Wally's outline was hollow, nearly transparent. Barry was next to him, shouting words that Dick couldn't hear. And that's when Dick saw the flash. Not The Flash, though he could still see Barry running clear as anything. No, he saw the flash, that flash that signaled that his best friend, the Robin to his Batman, was gone.

            Later, Dick knew Jamie's scarab would explain that Wally had "ceased", as it called it. That his physical form was no longer present. But as the chrysalis ended and the smoke cleared, Dick already knew what he would find as he ran towards it. His mind wanted to scream.

            "Wally. Wally! WALLY!" He didn't even mentally register Artemis' plaintive plea for her boyfriend, or Barry's words to her. He'd heard them all before, both as they happened and in his nightmares since. He knew every haunting syllable, all thirteen of them. Every single syllable that said Wally was gone. He watched Artemis drop to the ground, watched M'gann rush to her side, and exchanged a long look with Kaldur. Wally was gone, and it was all his fault. As tears began to well up in his eyes, Dick's head bowed towards the ground as the world faded to black again.

 

***

 

            This night was undoubtedly working its way towards being one of Tim’s least favorite nights. _Ever_. And that was saying something. He wasn’t ready to call it the worst, not yet, but he knew it was far from over.  There was plenty of time for them to all die horribly.

            “Idiots,” Damian half moaned next to him. “You’re all complete morons…” Tim didn’t have time to deal with the kid’s mouth.  He placed a hand over it gently, afraid he might bite him, or worse yet, puke on him.  They were currently hiding behind a stack of industrial strength storage crates, and Tim really, _really_ , didn’t feel like attracting the attention of the men currently stomping past them.

            “Listen, _Robin_ ,” he hissed directly into Damian’s ear. “When we get out of here and Oracle is finished murdering all of us, then you can say whatever you want.  But until then, shut up and just be rescued.”

            Damian shuddered violently in his grip, making Tim pull back slightly.  The youngest Wayne turned his eyes to meet him sadly.

            “You don’t get it…” he whispered, looking the most remorseful Tim had ever seen.  “Scarecrow…he wanted you here…he…” But he couldn’t continue, his head lulling down against his chest.  Whatever Damian had been drugged with, it was strong.  Either that, or he’d been given a dose much too big for his small size.  Tim grabbed him, tightly pressing him up against the wall, mentally willing him to stay awake.

            “Scarecrow?” he asked as loudly as he dared.  He shook Damian slightly.  “Come on, D, stay with me.  Tell me about Scarecrow.”

            Tim did his best to breathe deeply and not to scream as Damian struggled to remain conscious.  Whenever anyone started listing Batman’s worst villains they always started with the Joker.  Everyone agreed that he was a sadistic madman; Tim didn’t disagree with them either. He couldn’t.  Not after everything that psycho had done.  But as to whom the second worst villain was?  Each of the Robins had their own opinion there. Different people would pick different villains depending on positive and negative interactions.  Dick, for example, took an extreme issue with Two Face, as there was some suspicion Zucco might have working for Dent when he killed the Flying Graysons. Then there was the time Bruce’s ol’ pal Harvey took a baseball bat to Dick and well… yeah. 

Tim, however, placed another villain a lot higher than most. The Scarecrow. Dr. Jonathan Crane had found a way to master fear – to make it obey his whims, and that thought placed the Scarecrow pretty high above the other villains in Tim’s book. And now he was suppose to believe that man was here, that his toxin had somehow been made stronger?

“Come on,” he pleaded, fingers gripping Damian’s arms tightly.  “Talk to me.”

“Him and Bane,” Damian managed to croak out.  “New formula…nightmares.” The kid shook himself fully, his eyes snapping open wider as he became more cognizant of his surroundings.  “Where are the others?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.  His blue eyes darted around, taking in every detail of his surroundings.

“You were there,” Tim told him.  “We got ambushed.  Hood and Nightwing handed you off to me and told us to run.”

“And you listened?!” he demanded, his fingers digging into Tim’s flesh.

“It isn’t like I had much of a choice!” Tim shot back, shoving the kid from him slightly, only to regret it as he teetered and sat back on the floor.  “You weren’t exactly in fighting condition!”

“He’s going to get them,” Damian insisted darkly, dropping his head into his hands.  “He wants them as test subjects.  Dr. Crane has a new formula… that’s why I was kidnapped.” Tim swallowed heavily as the realization hit him.

“We have to go back,” he said.  “We have to go to them.  They don’t even have gas masks with them.”

“They won’t need them, Niños.” There came another voice from Tim’s worst nightmares.  “This new formula has to be introduced directly into the bloodstream.  It’s a kink we’re still trying to work out.” Tim felt his blood run cold, watched as the grim resignation hit Damian’s face, seconds before Bane’s hand wrapped tightly around his throat from behind.  Effortlessly, Bane lifted Tim from his feet and slammed him quickly against the wall.  Somehow, ears ringing, Tim managed to stay conscious.

“Stop it,” he heard Damian demand as he scrambled weakly to his feet.  Damian swayed unsteadily, completely undermining his authoritative tone. “We’ll go with you.”

“Of course you will,” Bane offered with a smile. “We wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

“Show?” Tim asked, trying his best to resist the way Bane was currently steering him down the hall. Bane’s laughter rang sickly through his ears.

“Sí, un espectáculo grande. We’ll have him all hooked up so you can see his nightmares.”

Tim didn’t let himself start to wonder which of his older brothers had been dosed with the toxin.  He didn’t want to let himself start trying to imagin which of their nightmares and fears he’d soon be seeing first hand.  So instead he focused on the number of doors they passed on their way.  By the time they’d gotten to door number fifty-two, they were greeted by a group of Bane’s lackies.  Both he and Damian were patted down, belts taken, before being shoved roughly through the door.

Jason stood before them.  He was a little bloody and probabaly pretty bruised, but he didn’t look like he was fighting any invisible monsters.  At least not yet. Tim’s eyes searched the room frantically for any sign of Dick.  Jason flicked his head angerly towards what appeared to be a window, proabaly a two way mirrior.

On the other side Dick sat tied tightly to a chair, his eyes closed, but his body twitching violently agiasnt his restraints.

“Now that you’re all here,” came the modified voice of Doctor Johnathan Crane.  “It’s time to turn on the video screens.  Let’s see what your Nightwing is afraid of shall we?” The screen flashed to life before their eyes, the pictures in Dick’s head up for all to see.

Tim swallowed hard, already knowing that little brothers were never meant to see the things that hanuted the dreams of their older brothers.  They were not supsoed to know that kind of fear.

 

***

 

           Dick bolted upright, his eyes flying open. His breathing was heavy, labored, and his costume felt oppressively tight. He'd been sweating, profusely, but as his breathing began to normalize he realized something else. He'd been sleeping. Damian getting captured, the mission going horribly wrong, watching his parents die, watching Wally die, it had all been a dream. A horrible dream to be sure, but a dream nonetheless.

            "Robin, are you on scene yet?" Dick jumped at the sound of Bruce's voice in his ear. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep with his communicator on. While he wondered why he hadn't heard the previous radio communications from Batman, he figured they must have just been keeping radio silence until now.

            "Just arrived. Two trucks out front, no markings. No bozos, either. They must already be inside." Dick was slightly surprised to hear Tim's voice, as he'd been expecting Damian's. Bringing up his wrist computer, he quickly located Tim's signal. Business district... right down the street from Wayne Enterprises. That was worrying, and no wonder Bruce sounded concerned. But why wasn't Bruce there with Tim?

            "You rest up, Bats. We'll handle this." We?

            'Oh, no," Dick thought. 'He's alone with Damian, they're going to kill each other...' Quickly hopping off his bed, Dick looked around his sparse Gotham flat. He walked over to a wall that was peeling wallpaper as if it was viciously offended by it and tapped three times. A small portion of the wall slid away, revealing a safe that scanned his retinas. After it opened, Dick removed the necessary supplies, stuffing them into his belt. He thought about grabbing double, just in case he had to break up Damian and Tim, but hoped his mere presence would be enough.

            His motorcycle was parked out in the alley, right where he always left it. With a familiar and satisfying roar, it came to life, and soon he was speeding towards downtown Gotham, towards the business district.

            When he arrived at the building where Tim's locator signal was coming from, Dick could see the two black trucks the younger boy had described. Parking his motorcycle behind some other cars, he sprinted to the edge of the construction site and fired his grappling hook straight up, feeling it catch and lift him into the air.

            After repeating this step a few times, his wrist computer indicated he was a level above where the younger Robin was. Moving stealthily along a support beam, Dick saw the outline of someone dart across a shadow below him. Just as he was about to drop down to that level, another shadow darted out from behind a stack of building supplies, a bo staff whirling at the first shadow's head. The first man dropped like a brick, and as he hit the floor, his head dropped into a sliver of light provided by the moon. Dick stopped as he saw the man wearing a Joker mask.

            As he crouched to leap down, Tim turned and motioned to someone out of Dick's line of vision. But all it took was a flash of red hair to make him freeze. Barbara? Here? As Batgirl and walking? The questions mounted faster. The mission had been a dream, seeing his parents die and seeing Wally die had been nightmares. Seeing Barbara here, did that mean that the last five-plus years was a dream? Had he never gone and found Jason in Eastern Europe? Had he never left her, the team? Had he never broken her heart?

            Dick decided not wait for the answers. He jumped down, sprinting over to them. Dick knew there were still enemies in the area, but at the at moment he didn't care. Barbara was walking again, she seemed happy. It was everything he wanted for her.

            "Robin, Batgirl!" He nearly shouted their names. They didn't react. Dick ran up until he was almost behind them. Neither acknowledged his presence.

            "Nice job there, Robin," Barbara said, rubbing her gloved hand through the younger man's hair. "He never saw you coming."

            "Thanks, Batgirl." Though Barbara turned to sprint away, Dick noticed Tim's eyes following her for the briefest of seconds before following after her. As Dick opened his mouth to say something, two goons jumped out from the shadows, both wearing Joker masks. Barbara leapt at one of them, spinning as she aimed a kick at his face. Tim went after the other, his bo staff flashing in the darkness.

            As Dick watched the two of them move with a practiced choreography that he and Barbara used to have, two more goons appeared around the corner behind him. Dick turned, hands rising into a battle-ready stance, but the two goons did not seem to be interested in him. Both seemed fixated on the fight going on behind the original Boy Wonder.

            Dick swung at the first goon to come within range, a fist aimed straight for the center of the man's face. Except his fist passed straight through it. And not just the man's face, the follow through carried Dick's body through the goon's as well. But that meant...

            'NO!' Dick screamed the word, even though he knew no one could hear it. This was another nightmare, another one of the visions brought on by Scarecrow's... whatever it was.

            The goons charged at his two former partners. Both began fighting faster, more frantically. They weren't choreographing their moves together anymore, now it was more about survival. Dick recognized the patterns, the problems. Tim, more used to fighting with Bruce, was struggling to hold his own against the two goons, since Batman usually attracted more of the attention. And Barbara, used to fighting with him, wasn't getting the type of support she was used to in battle.

            Slowly, the fight began to move Barbara and Tim apart. There was nothing Dick could do, even though he wanted to. He wanted to so badly, he wanted to save them, wanted to help them, wanted to stop what he could only assume was the calamity coming next.

            And then he saw it. The open door. A side kick from a Joker-masked thug sent Barbara flying through that door, which promptly closed, shutting her off from Tim. From help. Dick began sprinting. If he could pass through a goon, he was sure that he could pass through a wall. And if he couldn't, he was bound and determined to break through it.

            As he approached the wall dividing Barbara from him, from the world, everything went silent. So silent he could no longer hear the sounds of the fight, or his frantic, sprinting steps, or his breathing. He couldn't hear the pulsating beat of his own heart. Instead, he only heard one sound.

            _Click_.

            A gun cocking. Dick leapt, flying through the wall, which was left unscathed. He stumbled to a halt inside the room. The scene in front of him froze, parts of seconds seeming to take full minutes.

            Next to him, he saw the Joker, a sadistic smile coating his face, a small black gun held in his hand. In front of him, and Dick, knelt Barbara, hands on the ground, still wheezing, still trying to recover from having the wind knocked out of her by the goon's kick.

            He saw it all. The Joker's finger slowly tightening on the trigger. Barbara's eyes widening as she glanced up. The sweat running from under her mask. The Joker's pulse quickening, a vein in his neck bulging.

            But the slowness of the scene also allowed Dick to see something else. He could see his reflection in Barbara's eyes. His sleek form, blue bird emblazoned across his chest... and a black gun in his hand. As her eyes locked with his, she gasped out a word, still trying to breathe.

            "Dick..."

            The gun went off. Barbara slumped to the ground. Everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEkk... the ending hurt me - that's why my partner in crime writes the nightmares! As always, we do not own DC and their stuff. Thank you to everyone who have reviewed - it means the world to us.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson finds out his greatest fear, and the Batfamily's greatest villain, are one in the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, for this chapter, remember that the story is rated mature. There are parts that made me squirm. We really appreciate the feedback we've gotten so far - thank you.

**Chapter Six**

            Everything was his fault.  While he was incredibly reluctant to admit it to himself, and he would never admit it out loud, Damian had to accept that it was unequivocally true.  If he hadn’t been a moron, if he hadn’t been so damn insistent and determined to prove himself, Damian knew that they wouldn’t be in this mess right now.  He just hoped that when he finally got the chance to awkwardly apologize to Oracle, she’d still be willing to forgive him. 

            He winced as a scene from Grayson’s nightmares played out before his eyes.  Damian couldn’t decide which was more unsettling, the vision itself, or the way that Dick twisted and jerked in the chair.  For a long time, none of them said anything, their eyes watching the screen helplessly.  Todd was the first one to more.

            Damian watched the older man ungracefully push himself back from the wall. He wordlessly moved to stand in front of Drake, holding his tied arms out awkwardly. Hesitantly, Drake picked at the knot, waiting form someone to come in and stop them.  No one did.  After several long moments with only the weak moans of Nightwing coming from the other room, Damian snapped.

            “Did you tell him, then?” he asked, eyes leveled at Drake.  He was angry, at himself more than anyone, but he needed to release it.  Drake was, as per usual, the easiest target.  When he didn’t respond, Damian got to his feet unsteadily moving towards him.  “Did you tell him how it happened? After Batman told us not to?  That it was her story to tell?”  Nothing came out of Drake’s mouth.  There was no indication that he had even heard Damian speak.  It was completely unacceptable.  Damian used all of his strength to shove the older boy into the glass. He barely made it back to the corner before dropping back to the floor, his energy spent.

            “That’s what happened?” The Hood asked in disbelief. Damian only shrugged.

            “No…not… not exactly,” Drake stuttered finally.

            “What do you mean, ‘not exactly?’” The anger in Todd’s voice was thinly veiled. Damian could see the regret and the pain in Drake’s posture as he finally peeled his eyes away from the glass.

            “We were out on patrol together,” he started nervously.  “And then, I don’t know…we got separated.” He looked like he was going to be sick, but Damian, who had heard the story before just watched as Todd advanced on the trembling Drake.  He almost felt sorry for him.

            “Dose Di- Nightwing know that?” Tim shook he head.  “Fuck,” Jason swore. He punched the glass as other images swam across the screen projecting the thoughts of their older brother – nothing concrete, but images of pain nevertheless.  Damian was thoroughly disappointed to see that the glass appeared completely unharmed. “ _FUCK!_ ” Todd whirled on him as though suddenly remembering he was in the same room as a ten year old. _Tt._ Damian scowled but said nothing.  He knew how to say worse than that in at least four different languages. 

            Before he could offer up a retort to Todd about using such language, the lights in Grayson's holding cell went out. Damian froze, and could feel the other boys freeze as well as they all listened as the door to the oldest boy's prison swung open, and cold, measured steps slowly made their way into the room.

            Damian heard the scrape of cloth on the glass, and knew that Todd must be pressing himself against it, straining to see who, or what, was on the other side and invading Grayson's room. There was silence for a few seconds, and then a loud clank of metal on concrete shattered that serenity. The lights burst back on, stinging his eyes like a supernova. Damian heard a sharp intake of breath, and as his eyesight began to clear, he understood why.

            But as much as the terror in the next room should have drawn his attention, he was instead focused on Todd. The older boy was a dichotomy of emotions, a split as sharp as Damian had never seen in a person not named Dent. One hand hung loosely by Jason's side, while the other pressed up against the glass, straining, almost as if trying to break through in a sheer force of will. One corner of his mouth hung open in a silent anguish, of nightmares of his own coming back to life, while the other corner scowled in want of a mighty revenge.

            "Holy mother of Gotham fucking a badger sideways..." Damian paused. He loathed to teach Drake anything, but some new curse words were definitely in order.

            A flash of movement drew his attention back to Grayson's cell. He turned just in time to see the crowbar slammed into Nightwing's foot.

 

***

 

Pain. Well, physical pain. It was a sharp, physical pain that brought him back to a semi-reality following that sea of mental anguish. Seeing Barbara be shot... he wasn't sure how close he'd come to the edge of losing his mind, but he didn't want to get that close again.

            Now, though, Dick Grayson wasn't sure if the Nightmare toxin was wearing off, of if the crowbar jammed into his foot had simply made it seem that way. He tried to focus his eyes on it. Squinting, he could still feel his mask clinging to his face. 'Good,' he thought, 'at least we don't have to worry about that yet.'

            Dick's eyes zeroed in on the crowbar, just as it twisted into his foot again. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as his eyes looked past it to the pair of black shoes standing on the cool grey concrete. But it wasn't the shoes that caught his eye, instead it was the purple pants just above those shoes. Those purple pants covering a pair of skinny legs, leading to a black belt, a purple jacket, and a dark green shirt. Dick didn't even need to see the purple tie, orange collar, black gloves covering pale skin, or the white face and green hair to know exactly who was crushing his right foot.

            The Joker.

            Dick watched the Joker's fingers tighten on the end of the crowbar, lifting it slowly before driving it sharply downward into his foot again. This time, a howl of agony flew from Dick's lips as his head snapped up to look into the Joker's face for the first time. His own eyes narrowed as he stared deep into the Joker's grey ones, a snarl crossing his lips. The Joker smiled as he stepped away.

            "Oh good, the original bat brat is awake. I wanted to make sure that you heard what happened to dear little Barbara from me personally." The Joker started to laugh. At first, it sounded more like a wheeze but then crescendoed into a cackle that bounced off the walls of small holding room where Dick was being kept prisoner.

            Dick tried to jump at the Joker. Tried to launch himself, shattered foot and all, at the bane of his and Bruce's existence. At the man who had nearly taken Barbara from him. Who had taken Jason from them all. But he couldn't. His arms and legs strained against what bound him to the chair, and as Dick looked down, he realized that the only way he was getting out of this chair was if someone cut him out.

            "Now now, Number One, we wouldn't want you getting up and ruining the story. To interrupt would be so rude." The Joker swung the crowbar at Dick's right knee, and the crack of the impact the crowbar made with the side of it almost drowned out another agony-filled yell. "Someone has to teach you some manners after all." Dick didn't move, didn't speak. He tried to control his breathing, control the pain he felt coursing up and down his right leg.

            "I'm flattered that I'm on your mind so much, Boy Wonder." The Joker's tone changed, one that was lighter. Almost flirty. "I never knew you cared." Another cackle, followed by another lightning strike of pain to his knee. Dick leaned down as far as he could, nearly doubled over in agony. But besides another grunt of pain, he remained silent.

            "I'd forgotten how much fun I could have with a bat brat and a crowbar," the Joker nearly giggled as he feigned another swing at Dick's knee. "But now to the main event of the evening. Your nightmares are charming, Boy Wonder, but there's nothing quite like the real thing to stoke the mind, you know?" Another cackle and suddenly the Joker was crouching in front of Dick, their faces mere inches apart.

            "Has anyone ever told you how young Barbara pined for her sweet Nightwing after he left? How she hoped? How she dreamed?" The Joker's voice got lower with each question, nearly forcing Dick to lean in more to hear the story. "Every night, she left her window open for the Boy Wonder. What was she hoping for? Boy, I wonder..." Another cackle as the Joker sprang back, spinning and throwing his hands wide.

            "Observe, bat brat." He waved his left hand out in front of him, beginning to set the scene. "Here, sweet Barbara sleeps, innocently. Though not so innocently, am I right?" A laugh, higher pitched this time. "There," a hand shoots out to his right, "the door, where just down the hall her roommate sleeps." Finally, the Joker moves his left hand out to his own left, gesturing up and down. "And here, her window, left open, one assumes, for a figure dressed in black to come flying through," the Joker clasped his hands as if smitten, "and sweep her off her feet. Quite a daring thing to do with another girl just feet away, wouldn't you say, Boy Wonder? It must not have been so "wonderful" if you couldn't even make it so she could hear the two of you." He leapt back, landing in front of Dick, their faces barely parted once again.

            "She did this every night, Boy Wonder. Every night she left that window open or unlocked in the hope that you would return from your quest to... what was it everyone was calling... finding yourself?" The Joker's head was thrown back in a long, sharp laugh. "Forgive me. But I mean, if you had trouble finding yourself, it's no surprise you lost her." The word "her" was turned into a low, guttural laugh that quickly turned manic.

            "So once I find out this tasty little morsel of information, which really was quite delicious I must say, I just had to see if the rumor was true for myself. And much to my surprise, it was. Now I don't fly around like you do, or did..." another manic laugh followed as the crowbar was tapped against Dick's lower leg, sending a further wave of pain shooting up through his body, "but it was fairly easy to get up into her window. And do you know what I saw, Boy Wonder? Of course you do, you'd seen it many times before." The Joker's body flew backward again, once more setting himself as the master of ceremonies for his sick little play.

            "It was a warm summer night, with a full moon. She was just wearing..." a slow breath in was followed by a sinister smile as the Joker looked right at Dick, "a t-shirt. It was a little big for her but she filled it out very well. I assume it was one of yours. Still holding on to some sad, sick feeling... I'm not sure what to call it. Hope? That works. Anyway, she's wearing a t-shirt, and the moon, the moon is illuminating her just right." The Joker took a step closer to Barbara's imaginary bed, his hands floating over it like a magician performing a trick.

            "Besides the t-shirt, she was wearing... well, I don't know. This thin sheet covered her body from the waist down. But I could see her legs, those dancer's legs, those legs toned by so many years at Batgirl, outlined underneath that sheet." He paused for a moment, looking right at Dick. "Those legs, so familiar to you, wrapped so many times around your waist." A shriek of laughter before the Joker continued the scene.

            "So you know what I did then, Boy Wonder? I... watched her. How she slowly moved in her sleep, how every once in a while a smile would cross her lips, her hair bunching around her face. Well, this all got much too sentimental for me, so I had to pull out my gun." His face turned back to Dick, a frown crossing for the briefest of seconds.

            "Not like you would pull out your gun on her, you pervert. I pulled out my firearm. Wait... that doesn't work either." The Joker turned away for a moment, mumbling to himself. "I pulled out my piece? No, no. My Glock? Too similar. This is my rifle, this is my gun? Oh, nevermind." He turned back, his hand moving towards his crotch for a moment before sliding to his pocket to pull out a small, black gun with a silencer attached.

            "This is what I pulled out, Boy Wonder. This very gun. I still keep it for sentimental value," his voice quivered as he started laughing again, almost doubling over in joy as his story continued. "She must have heard the metal scrape against the cloth of my pants, because she stirred. You had her trained very well, bat brat, that she could identify a sound like that. And you know what she said?" Suddenly, the Joker leapt forward, one foot in between Dick's legs, his mouth right by his ear. His voice took on a relieved, almost female tonality.

            "You. Came. Back." This time, the Joker's laughed reverberated off the walls. His reflection from the television screens cackled back at him, and he jumped in the air as his laughter continued and he moved back to illustrate the scene. "You came back, is what she said. To me, thinking I was you. She was so ready for you, bat brat. Would have let you take her right there, had you been the one in her room. No "where have you been?", no "how could you leave me?", just a relieved "you came back"." The Joker stood in place, raising the gun and pointing it at the imaginary bed.

            "So I 'raised' my gun, Boy Wonder. And then I 'cocked' it. And then, and this one is just really too good to pass up, I 'shot off' and 'penetrated' her." More cackling, more almost giddy bouncing and then the Joker was right back in Dick's face again, a finger jamming into his midsection, right near his belly button.

            "Right. There. A little lower than where that bullseye on her chest always was, but really, how could I ruin what was going on up there?" The Joker poked a finger into Dick's chest before he pulled back again, his demeanor suddenly becoming much more sullen. "But do you know the worst part? The little bat brat didn't scream. Didn't make a sound. Her eyes were open, of course, and she could see that it was me, not you, who had crept into her bedroom and penetrated her... but she never screamed. She never begged." His breathing got more heavy as he turned his back to Dick, yelling at the wall.

            "I live for the screaming. I live for the begging. She wouldn't do any of it for me." The Joker's body turned, his eyes wide, even more manic than before, if it were possible. But his voice was suddenly much lower, so much so that Dick could barely hear him. "So you know what I did, Boy Wonder?" He paused. "I watched her. I watched her upper body slowly writhe while her legs stayed still. I watched her eyes dart around, looking for something, anything to save her. Looking for you." The Joker slowly began walking towards Dick as he continued speaking.

            "I kept watching her until she stopped moving. Until those sheets were stained as red as her hair, and her skin as pale as the moonlight coming through her window. And then I leaned down, brushed the hair from her forehead, and did this." The Joker leaned forward and planted a kiss right in the middle of Dick's forehead. Dick recoiled from the physical touch, fighting to keep the hatred inside of him from boiling over, and fighting the bile that was creeping up his throat.

            "And do you know what I did then, Boy Wonder?" The Joker moved so his face was just inches in front of Dick's again. "I left. I left her laying there. Just like you did."

            Those were the words that sent Dick over the edge. He gathered some of that bile in the back of his throat and spat, a large, runny mass landing on the Joker's cheek. The Joker's hand swiftly followed, striking Dick's cheek in a rage as he reached down to pick up the crowbar.

            "Do you know what I did to the last bat brat who spat in my face? Of course you do, you brought him back." The Joker raised the crowbar, staring down at Dick, who didn't flinch. "I will teach you all some manners!" Before he could swing, a new voice crackled through a speaker in the room.

            "Put it down, Joker. You know the rules." Dick recognized that voice. Scarecrow. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't say a word. He continued staring down the Joker, before the clown finally dropped the crowbar, the metal ringing out against the concrete.

            "Seems like you have a guardian angel today, Boy Wonder. Too bad poor Barbara didn't have one that night." With that, the Joker turned on the heel of one of his black shoes, and strode out of the holding cell, slamming the door behind him.

            Dick's body started to shake as he closed his eyes. The room was now silent, save for the slightly heaving gasps of him crying.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Barbara, Artemis, Steph, and Cassie spring into action to save the boys from the trap they have so willingly walked into, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian get some help from a very unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry that this chapter update took so long. It is on me. Hopefully, you enjoyed it enough to maybe forgive me. Your feedback means a lot – we’d love to hear what you have to say. Thank you for taking the time to read – enjoy!

**Chapter Seven  
**

            With every fiber of her being, Steph willed their half-baked plan to work. It was definitely a feeling she was becoming all too familiar with. She slowly eased up on the gas of her bike as she brought it into the cave right behind Cass and just in front of Artemis. No, she reminded herself sternly. The blond woman behind her was very much in _Tigress_ mode. The second she’d raked her hair back into a ponytail and snapped on her orange and black facemask – Artemis was gone. Steph had seen her fight a handful of times before. Where as Artemis was strong and fierce, Tigress walked that line of deadly. Artemis could smile, a little, and joke around with Barbara, Tigress didn’t smile. Steph would never say it aloud, but she couldn’t wait for the mask to come off.

            “Alfred?” Tigress called out the second all three engines were quiet. The man in question materialized from the shadows. A bat trick the older man must have picked up over the years.

            “Ladies,” he said simply, but not without warmth. He was holding a brown paper bag in one hand. Stephanie couldn’t help but smile despite the way her heart was hammering in her chest. She noticed even Cas’ss lips had turned upwards, even just a little.

            The man moved forward with purpose, placing the wrapped package in Cass’s arms. “Ms. Gordon asked me to make sure the jet was ready to go.” He informed them, already starting to lead them towards it. “I have packed you some sandwiches. And yes, Ms. Crock, I did remember you’re not eating meat these days.” The man didn’t miss a beat. “I would have been happy to give some type of meal to the young masters as well, however they felt it necessary to depart without checking in first.” Stephanie couldn’t help but notice the slight edge to his voice. The boys were idiots for thinking they could have broken in, and out, all without alerting Alfred to their presence. She could practically see him walking down the stair with a try of sandwiches, and probably coffee as all three of them were likely addicted – only to watch the plane take off.

“Yeah,” she said, her own voice clipped. “They didn’t check in with us either.” They stopped just outside the jet’s main door.

“Yes, Ms. Gordon’s tone implied as much,” he drawled. Stephanie was convinced only Alfred Pennyworth was capable of that kind of disdain. “Everything is ready for your departure.”

“Thank you, Alfred, we appreciate it, really,” Tigress said with a tight smile that almost reached her eyes, before boarding and heading immediately for the pilot’s seat. While Steph would have preferred to fly, because then she could have at least felt useful, she was secretly grateful. Keeping her mind focused wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do when all it wanted was to show her every worst-case scenario it could think of.

The old man sighed heavily after her, his gaze then turning to Stephanie, making her stomach drop.

“Please do your best to see them all brought home in one piece,” he said, sounding exhausted. She bit her lip, not knowing exactly what to say. “Incase you should find yourselves in need,” he continued, eyes now gazing off into the darker parts of the cave. “I also took the liberty of inspecting the first aid kits. There are three of them on board, all fully stocked.” She wanted to reassure him, to promise that they wouldn’t need the kits, but Stephanie couldn’t bring herself to lie – not to him.

“Alfred, we don’t really know…” she trailed off.

“Ms. Brown, please, I know each of those boys very well. It would be a miracle if only one of them required stitches upon their return.” His voice was strong again, an eyebrow cocked in a way Stephanie could only describe as British.

“If they don’t need stitches, they’re going to…” Cass muttered, her voice only just audible over the start of the engine. Alfred met her eyes with a smirk, and Stephanie found herself smiling just a little too.

“Quite,” he said before ushering them up the ramp, taking no more than a second each to adjust their masks, or brush away some imaginary lint from their shoulders.

The plane itself could never be described as sparse, but everything that existed on it – the three first aid kits, blankets, a coffee maker, and even some pretty high tech weapons stashes, were all tucked away and out of sight.

“We good to go?” Tigress asked as the two of them took their seats. Cass nodded softly, buckling herself in and bringing her knees to her chest. Stephanie moved herself into the co-pilot’s seat without hesitation.

“Sure thing,” she chirped, flicking on the navigation system and working to open up the comm. link with Oracle. Tigress nodded, her hands flexing over the controls before punching the jet into action. Stephanie tried not to notice the way Artemis was peaking through the proverbial mask of the blonde woman next to her. The way the toes of her left boot tapped out an uneasy rhythm. Barbara had pulled her aside with special directions just before they’d left.

“ _Look, Artemis talks a big talk, and she can sure as hell back it up, but keep an eye on her for me.”_ Their redheaded leader had commanded. “ _She’s lost a lot, okay? If one of the boys is hurt or…”_ Barbara had trialed off then, her hands spread wide, not want to admit what the three girls might find on the island. “ _I just want you to be ready to step up.”_ Stephanie didn’t want to think about the implication of Barbara’s words. She knew all too well what the older Bats and Artemis had been through. Losing Jason, losing their friends Tula and Wally, and then dealing with a missing Dick Grayson. Stephanie fidgeted restlessly as she tried not to think about it. The idea of finding Tim hurt… of finding any of them damaged sent a chill through her body.

“Y’ll right there, Blondie?” Artemis asked, breaking into her thoughts. Stephanie jumped a little, more surprised that the older woman had taken her mask off than anything else.

“Yeah, fine,” she replied. “Just thinking about all the ways I’m going to kick their asses for trying to sneak out on us.” The sound of nervous laughter filled the cabin.

“Dibs on Nightwing,” Artemis smirked. “He knows better – and there won’t be anything left of him when Babs gets her hands on him.”

“Damian,” Cass interjected with a nod of her head. “He disobeyed a direct order.”

“Don’t go too hard on the kid,” Artemis said, surprising both the other girls. “I think going against direct orders is something like a right of passage in your family.” Neither one of them had a reply for that – as there was no honest way to deny it.

“I’ll start going over those maps,” Stephanie said, finally breaking the silence that had taken over. “I might even have them memorized by the time we get there.” No one said anything as she pulled the maps up on a screen in front of her trying to commit every rise and fall of the island’s jungle to memory. She found herself somewhat deliriously happy that there was a coffee machine on board. They were going to need a lot of it to get them through this night.

***

            Ra's al Ghul stared at the video screen before him, where a sobbing Dick Grayson suddenly began convulsing before going unconscious yet again, an ugly continuation of Dr. Crane's Nightmare serum. The boy's mind and body were shattered, bloody, and once again he was falling into an abyss of nightmares and horrors that no man wanted to experience.

            Ra's had watched the first Robin's nightmares, feeling a growing sickness in his stomach as they continued. He had vehemently protested when the Joker had suggested he go down to the holding cell to prod the young man further, to see what additional horrors he could coax out of him with the right provocation. Dr. Crane had agreed with the madman, with the man Ra's had sworn to never work with again.

            His eyes turned to the other video monitor, showing his grandson, Timothy Drake, and the man that haunted _his_ nightmares: Jason Todd. It was after the Joker had killed Jason that Ra's had steadfastly refused to employ the Joker's help again. It was after that awful moment that he had offered his one and only apology to the Detective.

            The Joker here on Santa Prisca was not his doing, was not his idea. Bane had wanted the madman here for his experience, Dr. Crane had wanted him around for precisely a moment such as this. And without Ra's' quick intervention, the Joker might have claimed another of the Detective's boys.

            He knew what he had to do. This experiment had gone far enough.

            “Dr. Crane, I want you to meet the Joker on his way back. Inform him his services are no longer required.” al Ghul's voice was cold, hard, and his eyes never wavered from the video screens in front of him.

            "But... but, sir," Dr. Crane stuttered, "I must stay. He just returned to unconsciousness. I must document his..."

            “Did I stutter, Doctor?" Ra's' eyes left the video screens as he rounded on the shorter man. "Escort the Joker off these premises immediately, or I will remove all of my funding from your little pet project." As the man nodded and began scurrying for the door, he turned his gaze to Bane.

            "Make sure he leaves. If he resists, break him on the way out." The larger man looked at him for a long moment before silently nodding and making his way after Dr. Crane.

            Ra's turned his attention back to the video monitors the moment Bane left. After waiting a few seconds for them to be a suitable distance, he put his plan into motion. Typing a few quick keystrokes into the computer, he watched as the doors to both holding cells opened. What the boys decided to do from there was their own choice; he could immediately help them no further.

            Sweeping his cape around him, Ra's left the observation room and made his way towards the hanger. None of Bane's forces stopped him or questioned him along the way, and no alarm sounded. He could only hope this meant his grandson and the Detective's boys had made their escape. It was time for him to make good on his.

            Sitting at the controls of his plane was his trusted servant, Ubu, just as he had been when Ra's left him hours ago. With a few quick words, the plane was in motion, and Ra's strapped himself in. Picking up a communicator, he dialed a number as the plane moved down a hidden runway. The communicator rang once, twice, three times, and Ra's thought that he might not be able to get the man on the other end. Just as he was about to hang up, the ringing stopped and a stern, raspy voice greeted him.

            "I told you to not call this number, al Ghul." The Detective.

            "I apologize for interrupting you in the middle of a mission, Detective. But you are needed on Earth."

            "Ra's, I swear to god, if you're pulling some stunt..."

            "It's no stunt, Detective. Your sons are in danger. They are on Santa Prisca." He paused. "I am sorry Detective. Once again one of your boys is in grave danger because I partnered with a madman. I am hoping this makes amends." Ra's hung up the communicator before the Detective could say anything further, as the plane lifted off into the dark Caribbean night.

***

            With a hand pressed up against the glass separating the room he was in from his eldest brother, Tim Drake watched as Dick convulsed before slipping back into unconsciousness. Even though he knew it wouldn't do any good, he slammed his hand against the glass for what seemed like the hundredth time.

            The external pain coursing through his hand was nothing compared to the pain inside his heart. Seeing Dick's nightmares, seeing the older boy blame him for Barbara getting shot... that his brother blamed him, even in some dark crevice of his mind that needed terrorizing drugs to be brought out cut Tim to his very core.

            The door to their holding cell swinging open pulled him from his bout of self-pity. All three boys turned, none truly up for another round, but all getting into battle-ready stances. No one came through the door. He and Jason exchanged a quick glance before the older boy shrugged and began moving towards the door slowly.

            "The other door is open as well." Tim looked into Dick's holding cell and saw that Damian was correct. A million thoughts swam through his head. Was this their chance to escape? Were they being set up again?

            "Come on, we're going." Jason's voice cut through his thoughts, making the decision for them before Tim could even utter a word of question. Before Tim was out the door, Jason had already dashed into Dick's holding cell, pulling at his restraints. Damian moved in to help as well, while Tim kept his distance from Dick, perching himself against the door, keeping watch in the hallway.

            Less than a minute later, Dick was free, but still unconscious. Of the three of them, Jason was the only one who could carry their oldest brother, and he knew it. Tim watched as he pressed a shoulder into Dick's gut and lifted him, grunting. Jason took a slightly unsteady step towards the door before stopping. Something on the floor had caught his eye. Tim looked down and saw it too.

            The crowbar.

            Jason stepped on the end of it, flipping it up into his hand, fist tightening around the end. Tim's eyes widened as he met Jason's gaze.

            "I've got a feeling we're going to need this," Jason said simply, moving towards the door. What dire straits were they in that he would even consider using the weapon that the Joker had killed him with? That he had almost killed Dick with?

            Damian and Jason took somewhat of a co-lead as the boys made their way towards what they hoped was the outside world. The little brat would check around the corners and wave the rest of them around when the coast was clear. Tim hung back from them a little. If either of the other boys asked him, he would say that he was watching their backs. But in reality, Dick's nightmares were eating at him, and it was hard for him to be this close to his eldest brother at the moment.

            The factory was surprisingly clear of Bane's goons, which was another reason a gnawing feeling of unease was growing in the pit of Tim's stomach. Granted, they had walked right into a trap earlier and that's why there were all those guards waiting for them before, but they couldn't have all just... disappeared.

            As if summoned by his thoughts, a crowbar at his chest stopped Tim in his tracks. Poking his head around the corner, he saw three thugs standing in a tight group, chatting. One of them was smoking a cigarette, which is what probably prompted the sharp intake of breath from Jason. Here they were, on a Caribbean island owned by a master criminal, their oldest brother having drug-induced seizures, and all it took to get Jason really excited was the sight of one of his cancer sticks.

            The nicotine-addicted man knelt, placing Dick against a wall gently, before turning to Tim. “Alright, here's how we're going to take them down..." Jason turned to address Damian, only to find that the youngest boy had already disappeared into the darkness. "That little shit."

            _That little shit, indeed_ , thought Tim. He thought that Damian might have been too young to pick up Bruce's disappearing act already, but then again, the Batman was his father. Maybe it just ran in his blood. Tim turned to say something to Jason, but the older boy had vanished too. He felt like cursing out loud, but restrained himself because that would only alert the thugs to their presence. But wasn't this exactly what had gotten them into this situation in the first place? Running off into a situation half-cocked, without a plan, following that little brat? Was he the only one taking the time to think critically about their pervious mistakes? As per usual, the answer to those questions appeared to be a resounding “yes.”

            Tim poked his head around the corner again and knew what was going to happen before it did. A shadow dropped from the ceiling, landing on the thug farthest away from them, and smashing him into the ground. It was Damian, but Tim had no idea how he'd managed to get up where he'd dropped. At the moment it didn't matter. The closest thug's mouth opened, cigarette falling from his mouth, but before he could shout, a crowbar swing to the back of his head sent him crumpling to the floor. Damian leapt off the first thug and slammed his body into the only one still standing, sending him crashing back into a wall, where the back of his head impacted with a crack. The final thug dropped.

            As Tim stood, he saw Damian walk over and not-so-subtly grind his boot down on the cigarette that had fallen to the floor. Jason didn't see, which was probably best for the brat's sake. But as the man looked for it, he came across the crushed cancer stick, and Tim could almost see the pain in his eyes behind the domino mask. Despite his disdain for Jason's smoking habit, Tim almost felt bad for his brother in that moment.

            Shaking off the momentary setback in his continuing quest to kill himself, Jason walked back over to where Tim was waiting with Dick, and groaned softly as he picked the other man up again. Damian quickly scoured the thug's belts for anything useful, including canteens.

            Astonishingly, at least to Tim, they didn't run into any other thugs before they made it to a doorway leading to the outside world. There weren't even guards patrolling the outside. Tim was growing increasing suspicious of the ease of their escape, but despite waiting for the hammer to drop at any minute, he followed closely as the boys all made a mad dash for the tree line.

            It was about ten minutes later that they heard the alarm go off. It was a klaxon siren that echoed through the night air, bouncing off the trees, waking up the birds and causing them to fly off noisily. Tim heard Jason bite back another string of curses as he lowered Dick to the ground again. Looking down at them both, Tim's mind raced for a solution before he dropped to his knees, starting to pull off Dick's glove that contained his wrist computer.

            He popped open the cover to the computer, and began wiring portions of his own into his older brother's. With the combined power of whatever was left in both of their computers, he hoped he could break through the interference that Bane was throwing up over the island and bounce a signal off of one of Bruce's satellites. A short burst message with their coordinates and a request for help should be sufficient. He just needed to get it through the interference.

            "Uh... Timmy?" Jason's voice was soft, but the use of his real name startled Tim. That never happened in the field. "What are you doing?"

            Tim countered with a quick, layman's terms explanation of what he was doing with the computers. He knew they didn't have a lot of time. "With any luck... this should work."

            "So what you're telling me is that we're basically fuc..." Jason stopped his retort as he looked over at Damian and took another deep breath in. "Screwed."

            "No, no. ‘Fucked’ was more than appropriate, Todd," Damian said, leaning back against a tree, his eyes not leaving the wizardry that Tim was trying to perform with the wrist computers. "I thought that would have been obvious by now."

            Jason snorted. "Look at you, all grown up and using pretty swear words. Dickie bird isn't going to like it." Despite the darkness and the domino mask, Tim could have sworn he saw Damian's eyes roll.

            "Yes, next thing you know I'll be up to a pack-a-day habit and suffering from heavy withdrawal the next time we're marooned on some Caribbean island owned an operated by the equivalent of a drug lord."

            Before Jason could retort with what Tim could only assume would be a rather loud and vulgar reply, he interjected. "Next time this happens," he asked, his eyes not leaving the computers. "Can I not be on the "next time" mission?" Tapping a few keys, he pressed send on the message, and watched as he got an affirmative response from the satellite before both computers died, their power spent.

            "At least the message got out," he said, giving a half shrug of his shoulders. There was nothing more he could do with the tech they had on hand.

            Dick groaned on the ground, and in a flash Jason was at his side. The older man looked up at both of his younger brothers, trying not to show any emotion, but doing a terrible job of hiding the pain creasing his face.

            "Both of you, head out and scout for a suitable pick up point. Or find out where north side of this island is, and the ocean with it." Tim nodded, waving a hand to Damian, who huffed and started walking ahead of him.

            "And guys?" Both Tim and Damian stopped, turning to look at the man kneeling over Dick.

            "Just don't die, okay?" There was no way Jason could have known that Dick once said those exact same words to him years ago. Tim's body tightened for a moment before he nodded, both he and Damian disappearing into the darkness of the jungle.

*** 

            To say things were not going well was definitely the understatement of the month. Probably the whole year. Jason was tempted to say of his life but he knew it could always get worse. And if both of the younger boys were going to be looking at him for answers, he thought bitterly, they were all screwed.

            As he watched Tim and Damian disappear into the jungle, Jason muttered a prayer, just in case there was a God, that the two of them would work together, or if nothing else simply _survive_ each other. Even with their masks on, Jason could tell they were scared. He wanted to tell them that Dick was going to be fine, _was fine_ , but he knew it was a lie. Dick was not fine, and Jason didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, that it was really starting to worry him.

            Jason tried hard to not grimace as Dick's body jerked painfully on the ground. He could see his eyes darting quickly behind closed lids, and knew if he reached a hand to the older boy's neck that his pulse would be racing.

            Jason slipped a hand underneath Dick's shoulders and lifted him slightly, grabbing one of the canteens Damian had scoured and brought it to his older brother's lips, pouring some water on to them. He figured it was a start. People with unstable toxins in their blood wouldn't be hurt by water, right?

            He sat back with a groan of his own, prodding his own ribs softly, just to check. Oh yeah, without a doubt, something was broken. Jason let his eyes scan out over the jungle before him, rationalizing that there was very little he could do at this point. He moved some of the undergrowth around him, attempting to camouflage them if only just a little. Jason didn’t want to look down; he didn’t want to focus on Dick, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes dropped without out his permission.

            “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered, scanning Dick’s face. He could tell there was another nightmare going on behind the closed eyes. Listening to the sounds of the jungle and Dick’s labored breathing, Jason swore again. He knew he would have to be the one to figure them out of this mess. Fan- _fucking_ -tastic. Wearily, Jason scrubbed his hands over his face.

            “Jay…?” Jason breathed deeply, calmly, trying not to make any sudden movements. The sound hadn’t startled him as much as it surprised him. That, and he didn’t want to risk Dick’s mind convincing him he was in a dangerous situation and that Jason was the enemy. He didn’t want to have to hit him, but he would if it came right down to it. Jason turned, cringing at the weakness in Dick’s voice. He inched closer, laying a hand on his shoulder, feeling the older boy trembling. This was not how things were supposed to be.

            “You actually awake, and conscious?” he asked skeptically. “Or is this some twisted walking nightmare like you use to have when we were kids? Am I going to have to knock you out?” Dick smiled weakly up at him. Jason had to fight the knee jerk reaction to back away. He was having a very hard time seeing Dick this… _helpless_. Richard John Grayson – Boy Wonder – the Original wasn’t supposed to be this… powerless.

            “I think so…” Dick whispered, his tongue trying uselessly to wet his cracked lips.

            Jason eyed the water canteen sharply. Slowly, he brought it up to the older boy’s lips, silently urging him to drink. Instead, Dick choked on the liquid. Fine. Fine, they could always come back to that later. Jason set it back down, focusing himself in on the wan smile that had taken up residence on Dick’s face.  

            “Sorry…I’m sure you’d love to take a swing at me and all, but since you’re not actively trying to kill me, or you know, bleeding to death in front of my eyes…” he paused trying to catch his breath. “I’m pretty sure I’m lucid for now.” Jason took a second to process that those two things, him either bleeding to death or trying to kill Dick, existed in his older brother’s nightmares.

            “Nah, I cleaned all the blood off, just for you,” he tried to say as flippantly as possible, realizing the stupidity as his clothes were in fact, stained with blood. He groaned internally before moving closer and busied himself with going through Dick’s pockets. There hadn’t been time earlier, and Jason really hadn’t wanted to do it when Dick had been unconscious for fear the older boy would have assumed he was being attacked. Jason did not want to feed into the nightmares if he could help it.

            “A… Jay…?” Dick said through labored breaths, “I like you and all, but aren’t you getting a little too…” He trailed off, his eyes closing briefly before flickering back open. “Too…intimate? I mean I haven’t bought you dinner or…” Jason could tell the older man was trying to keep his body still. It was a losing battle.

            “Shut it,” he ordered, his fingers finally fishing a small packet out of one of the pockets. “These are pain killers, right?” He waved the packet in front of Dick’s face hopefully. Dick’s eyes tracked the movement slowly.

            “Jay, at risk of sounding… you know… I don’t think I can swallow that right now…” Jason had to put his hand over his mouth to stop from laughing.

            “Glad to see your sense of humor is still intact.” He moved to pull the pack open and popped one of the pills in his own mouth. “Don’t worry, I’ll force a few of these down your throat later when you can prove to me water isn’t going to kill you. Or I’ll wait and make the little monster do it – you probably won’t be tempted to bite him.” Dick’s eyes went wide as he started looking around.

            “Damian… Tim…?” Jason had to pin him back down to the ground when he tried to sit up. Dick was every bit an older brother – just barely hanging on to this side of consciousness and he wanted to jump up and rescues his little brothers from imagined danger.

            “Easy, Dickie. They’re fine. I sent them to do a little recon. Timmy hotwired your computers together and sent up some techno flare. Sad to say, big boy, they can handle reconnaissance.” The panic slowly receded from Dick’s eyes. They sat for a few minutes in an uneasy silence – the sound of Dick’s breathing still too audible.

            “How you feeling?” Jason asked. It was a stupid question and he knew it. It took Dick more than a couple of heartbeats to respond.

            “Like shit,” Dick finally admitted, turning his head to the side. Turning away from Jason. Jason didn’t fail to notice the way Dick’s body was _still_ shaking. He started praying to possible Gods again that this wasn’t Dick going into shock.

“Well, you look like shit,” he offered, trying to calm his own nerves. Dick didn’t answer, but Jason could tell he was less than impressed. “I’m kidding,” he joked, nudging Dick softly with his foot. They both knew he wasn’t. Jason did not want to admit how uncomfortable this whole situation was making him. Dick was suppose to be the one who bandaged scrapes and bruises. That’s how it had always been. Anytime he’d come back dinged up – it was either Dick or Al who’d patched him back together. Jason was more like Bruce when it came to this kind of stuff. He felt helpless, lost, and really weird, because some small part of his brain was shouting at him to offer some type of comfort.

            Hesitantly, he extended his hand, Dick’s eyes still turned away from him. Jason had almost gotten to the point where he could push the sweat matted strands of dark hair off of a burning forehead when Dick’s red-rimed, blue eyes came back to rest on him. He yanked his hand back without a word. Dick eyed him closely, the tip of his tongue still trying uselessly to wet his lips.

            “…Jay…Do me a favor?” he asked. Jason had to lean in closer to hear him.

            “Yeah?”

            “Tells Babs that I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “For everything.” Jason watched as Dick fought with himself, tried desperately to keep his eyes open and the nightmares away.

            “Dick…” he said slowly, placating.

            “I’m not done!” Dick rasped. “Everything. For keeping her in the dark…For lying…for leaving. For being such as ass… I’m -” Dick had to stop, the air pushing itself out of his lungs in a cough. It made Jason wince.

            “You’ll tell her yourself, Dickie,” Jason said, hoping he sounded more certain than he felt. He couldn’t handle the way Dick was struggling.

            “I… I just… I just want to make sure she knows… I’m sorry for all of it…”

            “Dick,” Jason said, interrupting his hands waving. “Clue me in. How bad are we talking here?” Jason didn’t like this. Dick wasn’t someone to start talking gloom and doom for the sake of being depressed. Dick was, by nature optimistic; it was one of the most irritating things about him. Jason had to fight back the panic when instead of answering, Dick’s eyes glazed over, focusing on a point just beyond Jason’s shoulder. It made his stomach churn at the thought of what tricks Dick’s mind could be playing on him right now. Without thinking about the consequences, he shook him, hard.

            “You’ll tell her yourself,” Jason repeated, his fingers digging into Dick’s arm, trying to bring him back.

            Dick blinked hard. Once. Twice, before shaking himself out of it with a half-hearted smile. “Just… just promise me?” he pleaded.

            Jason shook his head, in mock exasperation. He let his eyes wander into the trees, a part of him wanting to catch sight of either Tim or Damian, hopefully with good news. But at the same time, he didn’t want either of the younger boys to see Dick this bad.

            “How bad are we talking, Dickie?” Jason repeated, his voice low and anxious. He would have happily killed someone for a cigarette at this point. His nerves were fried. Dick tried to smile up at him, but Jason wasn’t watching.

            “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for what I did to you too. I should…” he trailed off, his eyes shutting. “I should have been there for you…” _Fuck._

            “Grayson, you sentimental, self-aggrandizing, boot-licking, fuckwit,” Jason growled darkly. He was having none of this “trying to die,” bullshit on his watch. “Stop it. You are not going to die. Ya hear me?” he had to shake Dick’s shoulder, and when the older boy’s eyes rolled back again he slipped his hands down to grip his face. “I don’t care how fucking dark it gets. You are not allowed to give up. I will beat you senseless if you even think about ‘going towards the light.’”

The corners of Dick’s lips pulled up slightly. It was kind of pathetic, but at least it was something. Jason pulled back, just a little. “The kids still need you,” he added, the harshness gone from his voice. He refused to add in that he might still need his older brother too – now that he’d decided having a family wasn’t that bad after all. His attention was pulled away sharply by the sound of a twig snapping and the pretty creative curse that came from a voice almost too young to be using words that big. It made Jason proud to hear.

            “The boys?” Dick asked, using too much strength as he tried to pull himself up. Jason, against his better judgment, helped him to sit up against a nearby tree. He couldn’t blame Dick for the show of strength he wanted to put on. A part of him even appreciated it. Maybe this way, the brats wouldn’t be looking to him so much.

“Just hang in there, Circus Freak,” he whispered.

The weak smile found its way back, plastering itself almost painfully to Dick’s face.

“Yeah,” Dick breathed, trying to focus his eyes towards the sound of the boys’ approach. “Hey…if…just if. The kid…?”

            “Yeah,” Jason sighed heavily. Screw one cigarette; he wanted the whole pack. “I’ll look after him. Both of them. But if this is any fucking indication, the little brat is going to need all three of us looking after him for the rest of his life.” **  
**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a rescue mission underway, Stephanie, Cass, and Artemis must fight their way into, and out of, an island full of enemies to rescue the boys. But in a race against time that Dick is losing, will they be too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, we’ve been really, really bad with regular updates. What we’re looking at here is the product of real adult life – and it isn’t the greatest, let me tell you. There is at least one, possibly two more chapters left to go win this story, but my partner in crime is already starting to sketch out story two. With that being said, thank you, THANK YOU, to everyone who has been reading and giving us love and feedback. It helps to keep us going. Please enjoy the beginning of the end.

**_Chapter Eight_ **

There were many things that Damian Wayne could handle. He had no issues with the fact that his father was Batman. Nor did he have a problem understanding and accepting that his mother was essentially the heiress to a league of bloodthirsty assassins; or that his grandfather, thanks to the Lazarus Pits, would most likely never actually die. Damian reasoned, that with his genetically enhanced intellect, there were many, many things that he could handle that would cause an adult man to wet himself, let alone an eleven-year-old boy. This, being stranded on this godforsaken island, with Grayson in some type of significant danger, and himself currently alone with Drake, however, was not one of those things.

            He was trying. He was trying, very hard damn it, not to lash out as he walked side by side with Drake. They had been walking like this, silently, for at least ten minutes, and Damian, who normally found solace in the quite, couldn’t help the feeling of his skin crawling. The anger that was boiling up inside of him was becoming too much. The real problem was that he had no one to direct this anger at. Damian Wayne had to deal with the undeniable fact that he was angry with himself. It was not something he was accustomed to.

            Damian watched Drake more than he watched the area around him. It only made him more disgusted with himself. He felt he should have been able to do both.

            “Here,” Drake said, putting out a hand to stop him. Damian flinched back from the contact, earning him an eye roll from the older boy. “There’s no need to be so over dramatic, Damian.”

            “No names in the field, _Red Robin_ ,” Damian scoffed. When he allowed himself a moment to look around, blocking out Drake’s heavy sighing, he had to admit, the area he’d found would be ideal for a pick up. They were right by the beach – plenty of room for one of his father’s planes to land smoothly. The vegetation around them would also do well to conceal them until a rescue could be arranged. Damian had to quickly snap himself back to reality as he realized Drake was speaking to him.

            “Look, _Robin_ ,” Drake continued. Damian didn’t approve of the sarcasm, but he allowed it for now. “I know what you’re doing. And you can’t.”

            “What are you prattling on about now, Drake?” _Damn_ , Damian cursed internally. He hadn’t meant to revert back to real names, especially not after chiding the now smirking annoyance in front of him.

            “Uh-huh,” Drake continued, the smirk on his face now insufferable. “Anyway, I know you’re blaming yourself. You did screw up royally, but-” Damian caught him with a glare, but Drake continued anyway. “But, you weren’t the one who came flying in like a pack of idiots with no plan.”

            “You could not even begin to fathom my thought process,” Damian scoffed imperiously in response. His ire rose when Drake had the audacity laugh at him.

            “Please,” he said. “I have been doing self-doubt and blaming since before your mother handed you a sword. I’m the expert in this family.”

            Damian was about to fire off another scathing remark when his mind flashed him back to the cell they had not too long ago been sharing, and the looks of self-loathing that had seemed permanently etched onto Robin III’s face. Damian replayed as much of it as he could in his mind, trying hard to shake the haze of the drugs from his memories.

            He remembered being angry, thinking that Drake had been the one to tell Grayson of how Oracle had been injured. But if he pushed himself, he realized the look of self-loathing had been on Timothy Drake’s face the instant that horror show had begun playing out before them.

            “You blame yourself,” he stated simply, blandly, as though it were not some revelations he had just had. “You blame yourself for Oracle.” Damian keenly observed the way Drake’s body tensed.

            “What does it matter?” Drake counted, pretending not to care, pretending that they hadn’t just tracked into territory that made him immensely uncomfortable. “He does. At least a part of him does, or he wouldn’t have dreamed it, would he?”

            “ _Tt._ You are aware he’s heavily drugged, yes?” Damian sneered. He couldn’t believe he was actually trying to comfort Drake. The other boy shrugged.

            “It doesn’t matter,” he stated resolutely.

            “ _Tt_.”

            When Drake didn’t respond, Damian gave him the silence he had earned. What did he care if the fool chose to blame himself for something he couldn’t control? Why should it matter to him if Drake wanted to carry that burden of guilt?

            After another few minutes of wandering, Drake stopped him again with a hand on his arm. This time, Damian Wayne managed not to flinch.

            “We should go back. Jay is pretty beat up too, if they get swarmed, something bad could happen.”

            Damian chose not to grace Drake with a response, but did turn himself, albeit slowly, around. He was still trying to sort out some of the wooziness in his movements.

            “You all right?” Drake asked, actually sounding concerned.

            “ _Tt._ Like you care.” Timothy Drake did an odd thing then. He paused, taking both of his hands and wrapping them around Damian’s biceps.

            “I do, you little idiot. I don’t hate you, you know.” Damian jerked himself away, trying hard to cover the slight stumble in his movements.

            “Please. If I honestly cared what you thought then I’d…” But Drake’s obnoxious laughter cut him off…again.

            “You care. Try all you want, kid, but I know you care what we think. Why else would you have tried so hard to show how tough you are?” Damian only scoffed at his words. This conversation was bordering far closer to the _emotional side_ than he would have liked. “Damian, all of us have done it. All of us have run off trying to prove that we were worthy of whatever mask we were wearing at the time. Hell, on some level, all of us are still trying to prove ourselves to _Him_.”

            Damian had a retort on the tip of his tongue. A piece of him longed to let it fly; to let the venom he felt fall from his lips as he assured Drake that he, as the only blood son, would always be worthy of his father. But he didn’t. Damian held the words close to his chest, before letting them go. It wasn’t the time, he realized. Nor was it ever, really.

 

* * *

            Barbara hated waiting. She hated not knowing what was going on, and the fact that there was nothing that she could do. She slid her fingers across her keyboard idly; the sound of her nails scraping the keys failing to calm her as it normally did. She began to chew her lip.

            “I’m going to kill him,” she whispered to no one. She knew it wasn’t fair to blame Dick for this – at least not for all of it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to. It didn’t mean that she didn’t want to scream at him until he came back to his senses, or until she came back to hers. Slowly, Barbara counted back from five, but every number she hit fixed a new picture in her head.

**Five** : She saw the way he smiled when he lied; when he said everything was fine.

**Four** : She saw him walk away, not realizing he’d be leaving her for years without a word.

**Three** : She saw the tight hold of his eyes when he refused to cry, even though everyone around him was.

**Two** : She saw his body go limp as he was knocked out cold and thrown across the room.

**One** : She saw scars on the body of the boy she wouldn’t admit to still loving.

             Barbara shook her head as she swore, raking her fingers through her lose hair. There were days she hated her memory and the way it chose to torture her. She flicked her left hand to the side clicking on her communicator.

            “What’s your ETA, ladies?” she called, surprised at how clam her voice sounded.

            “ _Like you don’t already know,”_ Tigress’s voice responded, filling the room. “ _We’re close,”_ She added. “ _But we’re still flying in blind.”_

            Barbara considered this. It was something she had been trying to work out for the past few hours. Santa Prisca wasn’t huge, by any means, but there was still plenty of jungle for the boys to be camped out in, and that was only if they had managed to break into the factory, grab the Brat Wonder, and get back out, all without getting themselves severely damaged in the process. Barbara didn’t feel particularly confident about their odds right now. She signed heavily, catching herself before she ran her hands over her face.

            “I’m working on it,” she said. “Did Alfred get you guys properly equipped?”

            “ _Of course_ ,” Steph’s voice rang. “We’ve got sandwiches and three first aid kits.” Barbara couldn’t help the morbid laugh that escaped her lips.

           “Only three? Who do you think won’t need their own?”

           “ _Damian_ ,” Cass replied. Barbara figured she was probably right. The smallest of the batboys had an uncanny ability to avoid being injured. It was probably what gave him his inflated sense of invulnerability. She was about to say more when a sharp _ping_ stopped her cold. Whirling her chair around, Barbara began typing furiously.

           “ _O?_ ” Tigress questioned.

           “Give me a sec.” Barbara had to work to keep the hope from her voice. She wasn’t ready to feel it, not yet. Quickly, she brought up the message alert on her screen. A set of coordinates flashed before her, an SOS, and an odd mangling of Timmy and Dick’s electronic signature… which meant… Which meant Tim must have sent message after hacking the two computers together. Only Timmy would have thought to do that.

           “Batgirl, you’re going to need to kiss Red Robin when you see him. I’m sending the coordinates to your navigation system now.” Barbara’s fingers raced across the keys, pinpoint the location on the south east side of the island.

            “ _Coordinates received,_ ” Tigress answered back. Barbara could hear Steph’s happy whoop in the background, and she dared to let herself hope.

             “Go get’em ladies. Patch me through when you’ve made contact. Oracle over and out.” They had found them. One hard part down, one to go. Barbara smiled to herself as she downed the last of her coffee. Maybe, just maybe, the last part wouldn’t be so bad. She could hope.

 

* * *

            Cass self-identified as a watcher.  It was what she did – how she learned, and how she came to better understand those around her.  _Perspicacious_ , Jason had once called her.  It was supposed to mean that she had the ability to notice and understand things that are difficult or not obvious.  She knew: she had looked it up.  She didn’t completely agree with him, however.  Because, while she had no problem observing the things that went on around her, the minute details that other missed, she often struggled to understand them. Right now, there was a lot of little things going on, a lot of little details for her to compile and understand all at once.

            Stephanie was sitting in her chair – the copilot’s seat, her fingers busy at the keys of a small on-board navigation computer.  The location of the boy’s - Tim’s - SOS flair was already locked in.  Cass looked harder, and corrected herself.  One set of Stephanie’s fingers was busy at the computer, the other, glove still on, was by her mouth.  Cass knew that under the padding and protection of Steph’s glove the fingernails of her left hand were ragged and chewed.  It was her tick, her way of admitting that she was nervous without saying it aloud.  Cass wouldn’t say it either, but she was nervous too.

            Artemis, the mask of her Tigress uniform in her lap, was slightly harder to read.  Harder, but not impossible.  Artemis held her eyes straight forward.  She didn’t engage them in conversation, and really hadn’t for most of the flight.  It was the woman’s stoic features that gave her away – the tight set to her jaw that indicated her own nerves. Cass looked harder here too, and saw that ever so slightly, the thumb of Artemis’s left hand, unnecessarily resting on the controls of the auto-piloted plane, thrummed with activity.  She was moving it so fast it nearly seemed to vibrate.  Barbara had once told her it was a tick Artemis had picked up long ago from the first Kid Flash.  Cass found it a little odd that ticks and habits could be picked up from other people, particularly those you cared for.  Carefully, she fingered a pouch on her belt, feeling the two carefully wrapped cylinders kept there.  That was a habit she knew she would not be picking up from another.

            “We’re nearing the coordinates now,” Steph called.  “Exact location is in the trees.  We’ll have to bring it down…” She trailed off, Cass watching as she drew her bottom lip in between her teeth.

            “I got a spot,” Artemis replied, moving her hands from the controls only to snap the orange and black mask back onto her face.  “I’ll put us in stealth mode, but I can see them combing the tress from here.” She turned to look at Cass.  “Mask on, Black B, we’re going in hot.” Cass nodded in response, bringing the high tipped mask to her face.  She watched as Stephanie and Artemis both ran hands over their gear, a last weapons check before the action began.

            “Ready to break things?” Steph whispered to her, a smile playing over her pink lips.  Cass nodded strongly.

            “And bring them home,” she said.

            The whine of the Bat-plane's engines died as the older woman put the technological marvel into stealth mode. Cass unclipped herself from her seat, making her way to the back of the plane, gripping a bulkhead tightly. She knew what was coming next.

            Stephanie, apparently, did not.

            Artemis put the Bat-plane into a steep dive, pointing its nose at the black island below. Cass tensed her body against the dive, tightening her grip on the bulkhead and locking her legs to stop herself from flying backward. She heard a slight yelp of surprise from Steph before the younger blonde began stammering.

            "Uh... Artemis. The island's coming up kind of fast..." The older blonde didn't respond. There was no thrumming in her left hand now. Artemis' hands were locked in a death grip on the Bat-plane's controls, and Cass imagined her gaze held the same steely resolve her hands did.

            "Artemis, we should really..." Steph didn't get to finish her sentence. Artemis pulled back on the controls suddenly, and even Cass, who had been expecting the maneuver, stumbled forward slightly. As the plane was still descending, now nose in the air, the gangway in front of Cass opened up, the dust and sand kicked up starting to fill the cabin.

            The gangway wasn't completely open, nor was the Bat-plane touching the ground yet when Cass dropped herself through the opening. Though deliberative in thought and action, she was not eager to let their element of surprise disappear. Artemis, and the Bat-plane's thrust vectoring engines, had kicked up a good amount of sand and dust when they approached the beach. That cloud of cover had been pushed right towards the tree line, and Cass intended to make every use of it.

            She was sure Stephanie was delivering her grievances to Artemis as the Bat-plane touched down behind her, but Cass would have to listen to her sister's complaints another time. She was already a few dozen feet away from the transport, nearly to the tree line, and the reduced noise allowed her to begin to hear the frantic shouts of their enemies.

            She ducked and rolled to her right as she entered the jungle, rising to strike the first goon she saw in the throat. He clutched at it, eyes wide, mouth opening with a slight gurgle as Cass leapt, her foot connecting with his face. The man dropped to the undergrowth with a soft thud.

            Cass knew she wanted to finish this fight, or at least take out as many as possible, before her much louder comrades got onto the beach. That wasn't fair to them necessarily. They didn't have her upbringing. But her younger sister had an annoying habit of letting out something akin to a war whoop during fighting. And Artemis wasn't the quietest fighter either. Cass didn't see anything wrong, per se, with their fighting styles. But on an island full of enemies, the less attention they could attract, the better.

            A quick shimmy up a tree put her above the eye-line of the two thugs that came towards the beach, and her. Almost silently, she dropped behind them, her leg swinging to catch of them in the knees. He buckled towards the ground as the other turned, raising his weapon. Cass' arm was a blur of motion as she struck him under his chin with the heel of her palm, his jaw closing with a satisfying _crack_ as his body dropped. The first man was on his knees, trying to scramble back to his feet when her knee slammed into his temple.

            The jungle was silent now. Artemis had finally shut down the Bat-plane completely. The stillness allowed her to hear the next attack long before she would have seen it. Cass ducked and rolled to the side as a crackle of gunfire thundered through the night air. Another burst followed that one. They were close. Reaching into her belt, she pulled out one of the batarangs that every one of Bruce's adopted children carried. Without looking, she flung it to the right, away from her, away from the source of the gunfire. It impacted a tree about thirty feet away with a _thwak_. Cass moved to her left quickly as the goons turned to fire on that tree, already grabbing one of the smoke balls from her utility belt. She threw it in between the two men. The ball immediately expelled a black cloud that turned the already black night of the jungle into something out of nightmares.

            The two goons shouted and coughed in confusion as Cass leapt in between them. She didn't need to see them to know what was coming next. Cass loved the darkness, it was her natural habitat. Their weakness, relying on their eyesight, was her strength. She used her other senses to know exactly where they were. An elbow to the stomach of one and a fist to the kidney of the other bent them both over. She put her hands behind their heads, and brought them together. Hard. Both goons dropped to the ground as the smoke screen cleared.

            "Equipo dieciséis, informe." A radio one of the men wore shouted to life. Cass immediately dropped to her knees, and lowered the volume. Intelligence on Bane had said his goons travelled in squads of six. The squad's final member was trying to reach out to his teammates.

            "¡Equipo dieciséis!¡Adelante!" With the volume lowered, Cass could hear the man now. He wasn't far. She turned the volume all the way down on the radio, taking it with her as she circled around behind him. He was easily the youngest of the squad, and was visibly shaking as he crept through the jungle. She had no problem coming up right behind him.

            As he reached for his radio again, Cass turned the volume up on hers. The young man swung around, rifle rising, as he heard his own voice behind him. Cass grabbed the rifle, twisting it out of his hands. She swung it like a bat, the butt end of the gun striking the man in the face. The crack reverberated through the jungle. He fell to the ground, and did not move again.

            The jungle was silent, though not for long. Artemis and Stephanie were running into the jungle now, the latter letting out one of her aforementioned war whoops. They both stopped as they saw Cass drop the gun onto the last goon. She saw her sister's shoulders sag is disappointment.

            "Oh come on, Cass," Steph's voice was a whine. "You were supposed to leave one for me." Leave one for her? Cass wasn't sure if Steph was joking or serious. She had always been told to eliminate your enemy as quickly and efficiently as possible. She didn't leave table scraps.

            "No," Cass answered simply.

            The older blonde stood behind Steph, a hip cocked to the side with a hand resting on it. Her head was tilted, and even in the darkness, Cass could tell that she was squinting at her. Cass couldn't tell if Artemis was impressed or annoyed with her efforts. She decided it was impressed.

            The three women moved farther into the jungle, Artemis holding a small tracking device that pointed the way to where the signal had come from. Cass walked off to the side of the two women, keeping her ears perked for any sound of other squads.

            A clearing appeared before them. All three stopped at the tree line, kneeling and looking for any sign of Bane's thugs. They didn't see any. Cass and Artemis stepped out into the clearing first, Steph hanging back. A sudden crack of a twig made Cass twirl, dropping to a crouch and raising a batarang.

            "Black Bat! Tigress!" She recognized the voice. Tim. As she slowly lowered the batarang and rose, a squeal of delight actually startled her.

            "Timmy!" In a flash, Steph shot past her at a dead sprint and jumped into the third Robin's arms before he even made it into the clearing. The blonde wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms encircling his neck as she kissed him deeply. At least she had followed Barbara’s orders. Cass never understood such excessive displays of affection, but she knew where they came from. She felt something, relief maybe, at knowing they had at least found one of the boys.

            After breaking the kiss, Steph dropped to the ground and punched Tim in the arm. Hard. Physical violence had always been a part of Stephanie's relationships, either from her, as was the case with Tim, or mutually, as was the case with Jason.

            As Steph began to scold Tim, Cass didn't focus on what she was saying. She knew there would be more scoldings to come. A smaller form walked out of the darkness of the jungle into the relative light of the clearing. Damian. The boy that his brothers had come to save. He looked relatively undamaged; yet, different from the last time that Cass had seen him. The meal in the diner seemed like forever ago.

            The youngest boy made his way to stand in front of both Cass and Artemis, just as much to get away from Steph and Tim as it was to greet them, she guessed.

            "Black Bat. Tigress." His voice was low, still to the point as it always was, but it finally hit Cass what was different about the blood son. He was ashamed.

            "Robin, where are the others?" Artemis spoke first. Which was good because Cass hadn't planned on speaking. Her attention was tuned back to the jungle around them, as both other women were distracted.

            Damian merely pointed back behind the tree line where he and Tim had been waiting. Artemis nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. The two of them followed the boy, picking up Steph and Tim along the way. It wasn't very far back that they found the other two boys they'd been sent to rescue.

            Jason was exhausted, perhaps more so than Cass had ever seen him. It was in his eyes, the dark circles under them, and the sagging of his shoulders. His breathing was slightly labored, from what Cass could only guess was an injury to his midsection somewhere. Maybe a broken rib? She couldn't be certain.

            Dick was another story entirely. He was bleeding from a number of places on his face, and the lower half of his right leg was swollen to two or three times its normal size. While Jason's breathing might have been slightly labored, Dick's could only be described as erratic. It came in short, shallow rasps, sometimes stopping completely, sometimes slow and soft.

            Artemis nodded to Jason as he stood and she kneeled beside the first Robin. Steph, who had been walking hand in hand with Tim, released her grip on him and threw her arms around Jason at a jog. A slight whine escaped from the large man's lips.

            "Easy there, Blondie," Jason said, a clear wince on his face. "I'm a little worse for wear than the last time you saw me." He cracked a smile at his own joke, but Cass could see the pain in his eyes. He'd seen more than he wanted to on this rescue mission, and Cass knew it. She didn't know what had damaged the most damaged of them so, but she was certain he would tell her later, at a more quiet moment.

            Steph released Jason from her hug, shooting him a disapproving glare from behind her cowl. He offered her a weak smile as he slowly walked over towards Cass. Off to the side, she saw Artemis open one of Dick's eyelids, shining a light in. His pupils were cloudy, unfocused. His breathing was still shallow, his chest barely rising as he drew in air.

            As Jason stood in front of her, Cass looked up at him, a hand sliding down to her utility belt. A small grin crossed Jason's lips as he spoke.

            "What? No overtures of joy at seeing me alive, Cassie?" She didn't answer, but instead pulled two cigarettes from her belt pouch and held them in front of her chest.

            For the first time all night, she allowed herself a small smile.

 

* * *

            Jason smiled wider. She knew what he needed more than anyone else. While Steph had offered him physical affection and Artemis might offer him something practical like water or painkillers, Cass seemed to know exactly what he needed most right then and there.

            Sweet, sweet, nicotine.

            He couldn't help but notice where she was holding the two cigarettes - directly in front of her breasts. Cass didn't mean it in a sexual way, and Jason knew that. She was most likely trying to hide them from everyone else, since no one approved of his habit. Cass didn't either, but she was at least kind enough to help end his suffering.

            He carefully removed the cigarettes from her fingers, making sure not to let them touch anything else. Jason twirled the first cigarette in his fingers for a moment before lighting it off the chest plate of his armor. Putting what his brothers so affectionately called a death stick in between his teeth, he took a long drag. A very, very long drag. He basically pulled the entire thing down at once. Jason let the savory smoke fill his lungs for a moment before blowing it back out through his mouth and nose. He smiled at Cass as he lit the second cigarette off the first one.

            "Thank you, angel," Jason said softly. Her lips curled into a soft smile. He'd have to find some way to let her know how much he appreciated her when they got back.

            _If_ they got back. He still wasn't sure if they were going to make it off this island. Though the odds were certainly looking better now. And better looking.

            "Red. Hood." The voice that had almost shouted his name could only have belonged to the little shit. Jason turned slowly, the second cigarette still in between his lips as he looked down at the boy who was the reason they were all on this godforsaken island.

            "Where did you get that?" Damian was obviously referring to the cigarette in his mouth. Jason shrugged.

            "Found it in a pocket I'd forgotten about. Figured it'll help me get out alive."

            "If it doesn't kill you first." Jason decided to let the younger boy's snarky comment go. As much as he was pissed off at Damian right now, Jason knew the boy's lashing out was his way of dealing with how responsible he felt for Dick. That didn't mean Jason wasn't going to smack him if he kept it up, but he'd let it slide for now.

            "We need to get Nightwing out of here. He's in shock." Artemis' voice silenced all of them. Jason finished the second cigarette and put it out on the ground. Walking over, he knelt next to her.

            "How far away did you ladies land?" His voice was low, head tilted close to hers.

            "Close enough. You think you can get him there?"

            "If it's the last time I have to carry his lazy ass, I'll be fine." Jason chuckled, then winced as he immediately regretted it. Taking a deep breath, he slipped his arm under Dick and then lifted. The pain that had slightly subsided came shooting back through his side. He bit down on his lip to stop a groan of pain from escaping through his lips. Jason shifted his older brother's weight over his shoulder to even him out and then turn to Artemis.

            "So, did you bring me a gun?" He held out his free hand in anticipation.

            "Of course not, Jay," she said, her voice soft. Of course she didn't. None of them approved of his use of guns. He felt something larger but lighter than a gun press into his hand as Artemis leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek.

            "I'm glad you're relatively okay, killer." Jason smiled and looked down. One of her crossbows was in his hand. He frowned.

            "This is utterly unsatisfying." Before Artemis could respond with a witty retort that he was sure she had right on the tip of her tongue, a shouted order in Spanish shattered the night air, followed by the quick chatter of gunfire. Jason turned to see Bane's goons charging at them through the jungle. He raised the crossbow, and squeezed the trigger. A short dart flew through the air and embedded itself into a goon's chest. Jason looked down, a bemused smile tugging at his lips.

            "But effective." Again, any retort from Artemis was cut off as bullets began peppering the trees around them. Both began running, stopping only for brief seconds to fire darts back into the trees. Ahead, Jason saw Steph grab a spare bo from her belt and toss it to Tim. Both took wide, rangy swings at thugs trying to cut them off from the sides. Damian had acquired a pair of escrima sticks from somewhere - Jason was guessing Cass - and was using them to fend off enemies coming from the other side.

            Suddenly, the youngest boy turned, planting his feet and throwing one of the escrimas hard at Jason. The older man turned his body at the last moment, just in time to watch an electrified escrima stick whiz past his head. Before he could open his mouth to scold the little shit, he heard a scream and saw a goon drop to the ground out of the corner of his eye, an electrified escrima stick on his chest. Jason merely nodded to Damian and the group kept running.

            They blew through the small clearing, and towards the beach. Artemis was already on the sand, calmly shooting a crossbow from each hand, picking off thugs who dared to get in her range. She ran out of arrows at one point, and dropped her crossbow, throwing a knife into stomach of a charging goon.

            Jason himself turned and started squeezing the trigger at anything that moved as he backed out onto the beach. He continued firing until a rapid _click click click_ let him know he was dry. His foot hit something hard and metal in the sand. Jason bent over, ignoring the screaming pain in his side, and picked up a rifle from an unconscious goon. He started backing up, firing short bursts into the jungle.

            "Hood, come on!" The shout came from the gangway of the Bat-plane, its engines already whining for takeoff. "Hood, we've got to go!" Jason turned and saw Steph. Her blue-green eyes were pleading with him. He wanted to stay here; he wanted to kill them all for what they'd done to Dick, to Damian. To him.

            "Jason!" Her voice screamed over the jet engines. And then his rifle was out of ammo. Jason threw the rifle to the ground and charged for the gangway, grabbing Steph by the back of her cowl and pulling her up with him. At the top, he slammed a fist into the gangway control button just as he felt the Bat-plane start to rise.

            Tim and Cass helped him lower Dick onto a makeshift bed, just before he collapsed against the bulkhead, more pain shooting through his side. The roar of the engines was still strong, and Jason was certain by now that they were home free.

             They were in the air for maybe three minutes when a click, and then the sound of Barbara’s voice filled the space.

“Steph,” Barbara’s voice was clear, and in control.  “Lenses down, give me a visual.”  Jason figured Barbara had done just about all the waiting she could handle.  She wanted to see the boys for herself.  More importantly, she wanted to see Dick.  Jason didn’t envy Steph; she would be the only one not permitted to look away as they all tried to ignore the shaking rasps of breathing. Out of respect, they all ignored the sharp gasp from Oracle.  To her credit, by the time she spoke again, Barbara’s voice was back in control.

            “I’m going to be patching Doctor Thompkins in now.  Tim, you’re probably the best one to answer her questions.”  Jason watched as Timmy nodded before kneeling down next to Dick.  While he knew the plane could essentially fly itself home, no one was going to mention that Artemis had stayed at the controls instead of coming back. She was done, Jason knew. This was one of those things she couldn’t handle.

            “Goodness.” Dr. Thompkins’ voice over the intercom forced Jason to look away from the where the older blonde sat, eyes on the sky.  The older woman began rattling of questions one by one and Tim answered them to the best of his abilities.

            Dick’s pulse was erratic.  His breathing was labored. And yes, his temperature was elevated. There was some blood loss, but that was mostly from the hits Dick had taken from the Joker.   Jason noticed the way Timmy shook as he inspected the damage to Dick’s knee.

            “Right,” Doctor Thompkins confirmed.  “Last question, has anyone tried to give him anything since the incident?”  Jason had to bite back a sarcastic laugh.  The incident? Is that what they were going to be calling it?  It took a nudge from Cass for him to realize that Timmy was staring at him.

            “No,” he responded, exhausted.  “No, I tried to get him to drink some water, but…” he trailed off.  “Yeah, that didn’t go so well – I figured shoving pills down his throat would be a losing fight.”

            “Good,” Leslie replied.  Every last one of them ignored Barbara’s sigh, which she tried to cover with a cough that fooled no one.  The Doctor continued as though nothing had happened.  “I’m going to arrange for transport to the lockdown wing of Gotham General. I’ll send you an address as soon as I have it.”

            Fuck.  Jason had really, really, been hoping Doc was going to send them home and meet them there.  He’d been hoping, but even he knew they weren’t that lucky.  He caught the tail end of the Doctor explaining that she’d have a cover story worked out for them soon – and that she expected them to all be in civilian clothes before they landed.  The woman didn’t bother signing off; as soon as she’d said her piece, her end of the conversation went dark.  She wasn’t leaving any part of this up for debate.

            “You heard her,” Barbara’s voice came back, loud and clear. “You will be in civvies when you land.  I’ll be waiting for you.”  Jason suspected her sudden, albeit it familiarly bossy tone was an attempt to hide the way her voice was shaking.  It might have fooled the kids, but there was no way she was going to slip it past him. Stephanie flipped the lenses of her mask back up, a clear indication that the conversation was over. She turned her eyes towards Jason before pulling down her cowl and pulling the comm. link from her ear.

            “She wants to talk to you,” Steph offered weakly, handing him the small device. Jason frowned, but put it in his ear any way.

            “Jason?” He glanced around and saw that Cass, Steph, Tim, and Damian were already starting to shift away – moving towards food, coffee, or a clean change of clothes.  They all looked like hell.

            “Yeah?” he responded softly.  If any of the others heard him, they ignored it.  They all knew what it was like to have the voice of Oracle in their heads.

            “Jay?” She repeated, this time not even bothering to hide the way her voice shook.  Jason figured her whole body was probably shaking at this point.  The weight of it made his heart hurt. 

A part of him wanted to give her Dick’s apology – it was on the tip of his tongue, but then he stopped. It wouldn’t help.  He sighed, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

            “Yeah, Babs?”

            “Do you know how to disarm the security locks on the Nightwing armor, or do you need me to walk you through it?”  Jason briefly wondered when the last time Barbara had disarmed the locks was, but he knew better than to ask.  He hesitated just long enough to pull his own domino mask from his eyes.

            “I got it,” he promised, fingers reaching out to a small panel on Dick’s right wrist – right where the master “off switch” had been since they were kids, no mater what uniform Dick had had on.  Slowly, Jason let his fingers type in the password: **0923BG**. Barbara Gordon’s birthday.  He laughed to himself when the green light flashed, signaling the all clear.  “Code’s still good,” he said.  She didn’t say anything, but Jason knew Barbara was still there.

            Carefully, he began peeling the mask from Dick’s face, pushing his bangs out of the way as he went.  Just as Jason had gotten it off, already moving to the gauntlets, Dick’s face contorted painfully as another pathetic whimper escaped his lips – one that sounded a whole lot like Barbara’s name.

            “I gotta go,” Barbara said quickly in his ear, and Jason nodded even though he knew she couldn’t see him.  “I’ll meet you at the pick up site. Oracle out.”

 

* * *

 

            Gotham General Hospital was one of his least favorite places. In fact, he avoided it entirely if he could. But tonight, Dick Grayson could not avoid it. He had known his destination ever since he'd seen the news while browsing the web briefly in some Eastern European hellhole.

            _Daughter of Gotham City Police Commissioner Jim Gordon Shot; In Critical Condition._

            They hadn't even put her name in the headline. She was just "Police Commissioner Jim Gordon's Daughter" to them. He knew they weren't trying to be disrespectful. The press didn't know about her exploits as Batgirl, how she'd helped save that city, save the world, more times than he could count. The city didn't know the name Barbara Gordon; it meant nothing to them.

            But it meant the world to him.

            When he got back into town, he'd called the hospital, pretending to be a cousin she didn't have. Getting her room number was easy enough, even though he was told she wasn't taking visitors. But he wasn't visiting.

            Reading the news of her shooting had made him realize just how much she meant to him, how he had taken her for granted. That feeling of his stomach leaping into his throat whenever she was put into danger was amplified by millions when he read about her being injured like this. And then came the guilt, the guilt of having not been there, of not protecting her.

            He landed softly on the ledge outside her window. Checking quickly, Dick saw her room was empty except for Barbara herself, her crimson hair splayed on the pillow around her head, her skin paler than usual.

            Setting the flowers he had brought softly on the window's ledge, he carefully opened it and slipped inside. Gotham's night wind lightly blew the curtains towards the center of the room, framing Dick like the opening of a show as he walked in. His steps were soft, measured, and steady, but a growing dread was rising within him. What if she never woke up? What if he never had the chance to say the words that he never should have held back?

            He pulled a chair over next to her bed, setting the yellow daisies on the table next to her head. Dick looked around for a glass, something to put them in, but couldn't see one. It didn't matter. He'd get one later. His fingers brushed over the blankets covering her body before tracing over her hand. Dick locked his hand around hers, feeling the faintest bit of warmth through his gloves.

            "I'm so sorry, Barb. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." His voice, even at a whisper, cracked. He could feel the tears welling up behind his still-on domino mask. Dick opened his mouth to speak again.

            "I'm never going to leav-" The sound of the door's handle moving stopped him, and in a flash, he was out of the hospital room, standing on the ledge with his back pressed against the outside wall of the hospital, deep in a shadow.

            Dick could hear footsteps walking into the room, over to Barbara, the chair he had been sitting in, and over to the window. If the owner of those footsteps looked out the window, they'd see him standing there, clear as day. But they were so close, Dick couldn't move or he would be seen.

            "It's okay if you don't wan to see me right now, Bruce, I understand." Dick recognized the voice immediately. Barbara's father, Commissioner Jim Gordon. _He must think that I'm Bruce_ , Dicksaid mentally. _Maybe if I just go in, I can explain everything, maybe he'll let me stay._

            "I want you to know that I don't blame you, Bruce. Barbara is an adult, she can make her own decisions. She was doing what was right. And I know you did everything you could for her." The Commissioner's voice faltered, and Dick heard him shuffling his feet for a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice harder this time.

            "But if you see that boy of yours, you tell him to stay the hell away from her. It's been two weeks, and he hasn't called, hasn't written, hasn't stopped by to see her. If he really loved her, he wouldn't have left in the first place, but if he cared about her at all, he'd be here now." Dick felt like he'd been shot, like he'd just read about Barbara being shot all over again, like he'd just lost Jason again. Like he'd just lost Wally again. He kept his mouth shut.

            "You tell him that, Bruce. You tell him I never want to see him around my Barbara ever again." The window slammed shut, and Dick heard the latch lock. He bowed his head before looking up at the cloudless Gotham night. Poking his head around the window one last time to see Barbara's face, her father hunched over her bed, he fired his grappling hook and swung away.

            Gotham wasn't home anymore.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick continues fighting for his life as the Batfamily finally arrives back in Gotham. But as the doctors of Gotham General work, the rest of the family must deal with their own inner demons and nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man… I know, I know… We’re so so very sorry. It has been 8 months since we last updated – but this chapter is super long AND we’re almost done with the next chapter too. And that, ladies and gents, will be the last chapter. Millenniumrobin and I really appreciate everyone who has stuck it out with us this long. And we appreciate the new people who have found us too. The feedback and reviews from everyone has been so wonderful – thanks everyone. Please enjoy!

**_Chapter Nine_ **

            Barbara swore. She let as many filthy words pour from her mouth as she could remember, and then said them all again in Vietnamese, Atlantian, Mandarin, Spanish, French, and Arabic, just for good measure. She breathed in as deeply as she could, willing herself not to cry, she didn’t have time for crying. She let herself swear, just a few more times in Romani. There were several times she’d thought about learning the language fluently over the past few years, but something – something more than the fact that the Romani people were _fiercely_ protective of their language – had always stopped her. That same something had _not_ stopped her from picking up a few of the curses, however.

            Barbara knew what she had to do next, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to it. In truth, they should have called Bruce hours ago, and she briefly wondered if Alfred already had, but let that hope go. If Alfred had called he would have at least done her the courtesy of warning her. Before she could talk herself out of it, Barbara pulled up his link extension – clearly marked with “For Emergencies Only” and hit the call button.

The second the comm link clicked on, Barbara began talking; she didn’t have the energy for Bruce to chastise her tonight.

            “B- the boys…they uh… I know I should have called sooner, but we wanted to fix this, and you were off world – so you said only in an emergency.” Barbara despised the way that admitting mistakes to Bruce still made her feel like she was sixteen. The sound of his voice, always so ridiculously sure of himself, bought her out of her bout of self-indulged loathing.

            “I know.” _Of course he did._ “I’m already on my way.” _Of course he was._ “I’m still a few hours out.” Barbara detected the slightest chink in his preverbal armor. She wouldn’t say he was _nervous_ , exactly, more _uncomfortable_.

            “Do I want to know who got a hold of you first?” He ignored her question.

            “Where am I meeting you? Clock tower, the manor, or,” he paused for half a beat as though considering, “The Watchtower?”

            “Gotham General,” she said, her voice low, but she knew he’d heard her. She listened to his control waver with an exhausted sigh.

            “That bad.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

            “Leslie thought so. I already had her patched through on a vid link. She’s setting up the lockdown wing and a cover story.” Barbara could practically see Bruce nodding.

            “Civilian clothes then,” he said it like he was placing a drink order, but his next line gave away his true feelings: “How many rooms, Barbara?”

            “Just one. But Jay is probably going to need some stitches,” Bruce managed a half chuckle. Jason and stitches was mostly to be expected. “Damian might need some fluids – they gave him something strong to knock him out.”

            “Tim or Dick?” He wasn’t laughing now. But his voice didn’t sound like Batman, either. This voice belonged to Bruce Wayne; the real Bruce Wayne, not the playboy billionaire; the father afraid for his children.

            “Dick,” Barbara heard her voice crack. She heard the way the tears hid at the edges of her voice and she knew Bruce would hear it to. It wasn’t like this conversation would have gone any better if she’d been forced to say Timmy’s name. But the truth was, everyone knew Tim was more careful. Dick didn’t get hurt often, but when he did… there was usually more than just a few stitches involved. The silence on the other end of the comm link stretched on forever.

            “When did he stop listening to _you_?” Bruce sounded exhausted and just a little bit afraid. Barbara smiled sadly. Even the Batman wasn’t invincible.

            “About the same time he stopped listening to everyone else.” _Around the time he left_ , she didn’t add, although she knew Bruce was aware of how strongly it was implied.

            “Of course. What details can you give me?”

            Barbara paused with her fingers on her keys. “I can… I have the video…” she whispered. “I haven’t deleted it yet.” She didn’t want to send it – because if she did, she’d have to rewatch it too. She’d have to see the blood and the pain etched across his face. She would have to see it all in moving detail – not that her mind wasn’t still playing it on an endless loop in the background of her brain. No, what she wanted to do was delete it, permanently. To erase its physical existence like she would never be able to erase it from her memory banks.

            “No,” Bruce answered. “Just an idea will be fine.” Barbara sighed in response, her eyes going to the ceiling. When she spoke again her voice was detached, almost robotic; a nasty habit she’d picked up from Bru – from Batman.

            “Scarecrow and Bane created something they’re calling Nightmare toxin. It’s looks like one of Dr. Crane’s old recipe spliced with the Venom formula. It feeds on adrenaline. They used Nightwing as a guinea pig.” _Nightwing_ because using his code name made it easier, made this nightmare happen to someone who was a hero – and heroes always come out on top. Barbara bit her lip, her fingers clenching the arms of her wheelchair. It was a lie she knew too well. She swallowed and tried to keep her voice as detached as before.

            “I don’t know how much of it was used or exactly what the side effects are. Red Robin helped Dr. Thompkins with a very brief and inconclusive check. Nightwing’s pulse and breathing are erratic, at best. He also appears to have suffered some type of damage to his leg. I don’t know what caused that.” There were pieces to the story she didn’t have yet, the lack of knowledge making her feeling completely useless.

           “That’s all I know.” She didn’t need to be able to see Bruce to know he was nodding. She bit her lip waiting to see which persona would respond.

            “You’ll be waiting for them at the drop zone, with Leslie?” Bruce – _definitely Bruce –_ asked.

            “Of course I will.” Of course she would be. It was a question they both knew was stupid. He was stalling because he didn’t know how to keep it together either. Instead of making her nervous, Bruce’s uncertainty calmed her. For once, not even Batman had all the answers.

            Barbara tried not to let her mind run away with her as the silence stretched on. She couldn’t stop seeing the way Dick’s body had been shaking; the way his body twitched, bloody and beaten on the floor of the plane. She did everything in her power to not hear the broken way her name had escaped his bloody lips, but still the fresh memory came unbidden.

            “Barbara?” The sound of her name, said with conviction and the control only Bruce was ever capable of startled her mercifully out of her thoughts.

            “Yes…?”

            “I want you to know two things before you meet Leslie. One, this was in no possible way your fault; nothing within your vast powers could have prevented this.” Barbara closed her eyes slowly, trying to let his words sink in. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear someone else say the words. “Second, he loves you. Despite every stupid thing he has done, and will likely do in the future, Dick loves you.”

            “I…” Barbara stuttered, her eyes flying back open with a snap.

            “I’ll meet you at the hospital. Batman, over and out.”

 

** *** **

            Steph was trying. She was trying very, very hard, to smile. She wanted to say something that would put everyone at ease, but even she was having a hard time bringing the optimism. She chewed her lip nervously as she stirred the cream and sugar into her coffee. She watched, feeling useless as Cass and Jason maneuvered Dick into civilian clothes. Timmy was standing with them, waiting with a first aid kit in hand. She figured he was going to try and do something, but she had no idea what.

            “One of you ladies want to hand me a knife? They took our gear,” Jason called out, his hand raised. Steph reached for the pouch at her leg but Cass was faster, offering up several different blades of various lengths and sharpnesses. That was a word, right?

            “What’s it for?” Steph asked once Jason had picked his favorite. A small part of her was sure she wasn’t going to like the answer.

            “There’s no way we’re getting his stupid leg into his stupid jeans. He wears them too fucking tight,” he answered, pulling the jagged blade across the dark denim as he spoke. Steph couldn’t help but wonder if that was why Dick’s ass _always_ looked… well… like it did. She quickly shushed that thought with relief that Jason didn’t need to use the knife on Dick.

            “It’s within the realm of possibility that we would have done something to try and stop that bleeding, too,” Tim added, slipping his hands into a pair of latex gloves. “I mean we don’t know what Dr. Thompkins is going to say… but…” He knelt down, hands working quickly to press gauze to the wound. Steph couldn’t believe the switch Timmy could flip when he needed to.

            “Let’s get his pants on first, Timmy,” Jason said, pulling Dick up by his shoulders. Steph did everything she could not to cringe at the sounds that came out of Dick’s mouth. She noticed Damian, sitting in the corner. He wasn't doing so well ignoring the sounds, his head pressed tightly against the wall. Cass and Timmy, however, didn’t flinch as they both moved to get Dick into his pants.

            “Warm ups,” Cass insisted, once they had succeeded. “With snaps.” Steph nodded in agreement. They were going to need to rethink their choice of emergency civvies in the plane.

            “You’re up, Timmy,” Jason gave as a response, pulling himself up from the floor with a groan. “I need a less bloody shirt on.” Steph watched him go, stumbling a little. Jason looked beyond exhausted. She wanted to help him, to help someone, but she couldn’t figure out how. She followed after him carefully.

            “Jason?” she asked. He didn’t respond as he rummaged around in the duffle stamped with a red mask. It was one of the silliest labeling systems she had ever seen: each of their bags were tagged with a different color mask. She figured Alfred had to do something to stay entertained. “Jay?” she called again when he didn’t respond.

            “I know what you’re doing, Blondie,” he replied with a grunt, tugging the clothes he wanted free. “I know you’re doing that thing, that thing where you try to _fix_ , but I can’t.” He shrugged painfully out of his jacket and yanked his shirt off hastily. He was bleeding from several cuts, and had some pretty gruesome bruises decorating his already scared body. Steph moved forward with a sigh. Without a word, she stopped him from putting on the clean shirt grasped in his hands.

            “Just,” she sighed again, flipping open another first aid kit. She ignored his protests as she started cleaning up the cuts. “Look, just because you aren’t the most hurt doesn’t mean you get to ignore yourself.” Jason said nothing. Steph finished, loosely wrapping him in gauze before taking a step back. Jason held up his shirt, his eyebrows raised.

            “You done?” he asked. Stephanie rolled her eyes with a cross of her arms.

            “Yes, you may dress now.” Jason complied, pulling the shirt down over his face. Steph didn’t say anything about the half quieted groan that came from him. She knew she had just about used up his patience.

            She located her duffle, the purple mask affixed proudly to it, and dragged out her jeans and t-shirt. Without a word she disarmed her uniform and took it off piece by piece. She could feel Jason’s eyes on her body, but said nothing. Once she was redressed in Alfred-approved civilian wear, she turned to once again size up the annoying mystery that was Jason Todd.

            “It’s going to be a long flight,” she said. “It’s your call, but I know Alfred put sleeping pills in the first aid kit. They aren’t the cigarettes that Cass smuggled you, but…” She trailed off, smirking as his eyes grew wide. Of course she had seen that exchange.

            “I’m fine,” he said finally. “Besides.” He leaned back down to rummage through his pack again. He came back with a pack of cigarettes. “Alfred hasn’t found where I hide all of them yet.”

            Stephanie seriously doubted that, and figured Alfred was making the choice to ignore them.

            “You know you can’t smoke on the plane,” she reminded him flatly. Jason replied with a shrug and smashed the pack into his jacket pocket without a word.

            “Don’t tell,” he told her, his body coming closer. Steph could smell the two he’d smoked earlier on his skin as he leaned over her to grab a pair of blankets.

            “Jay?” she questioned softly, her hand reaching for his arm.

            “Later,” he said, his voice exhausted and raw. “Later, you can ask all the questions you want.” He put his hand on her head before turning his back. “When this is over, I’ll let you waste your time for a full day trying to get inside my head. Just not right now.” She watched him go sadly, the blankets dangling from his hands. He made his way back over to where Tim and Cass sat with Dick, and she watched as, without a word, he draped one of the blankets over Damian’s shoulders. Maybe someone would end up getting some sleep.

            She was about to join them when a sound from the front of the plane, the sound of someone trying very hard not to cry, caught her attention. It was one Steph was a little too familiar with. Her eyes narrowed, seeing the way that Artemis Crock, still in her Tigress mask, was hunched over the control panel. Stephanie knew that there were things that she couldn’t fix. She knew that people held on to pains that couldn’t be smiled away, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t at least try to make this easier for the woman who had come with them.

            She fished a spare pair of jeans and a hoodie out of her duffle and went to grab more coffee. In the Batfamily, Stephanie was realizing, coffee was the closest thing any of them came to saying “I love you.” And if there was anything she had learned about Barbara’s friend from the few times they’d met, it was that the woman could kick some serious ass, and that the caffeine would be well received.

            “Hey,” Steph called, slinking towards the pilot seat. She set the change of clothes down on the arm of the chair, ignoring the way the older blonde’s body tensed. “I brought you some coffee,” she added, trying to soften her presence. Artemis took the coffee, but ignored the clothes.

            “Thanks.”

            Steph noticed how pointedly she was not being looked at. She knew Artemis didn’t need to be paying attention to fly the plane. She wished that she could assure her that Dick was “resting comfortably,” or whatever nonsense people said, but Steph didn’t like to lie.

            “I think you’ll probably fit into my clothes,” she blurted instead. “I mean, you’re a little taller, but you’ll need something. You can’t go to the hospital in -”

            “Stop,” Artemis said, cutting her off. There was no anger in her voice. If anything, Steph had to admit it was a little devoid of any emotion. “Just don’t.”

            “I don’t understand…” Steph told her honestly. “I figured you…”

            “I’m not going to go to the hospital, Blondie. As soon as we land, I’m going to fly this thing back where it came from, and then I’m going home.”   Steph studied the profile of the woman in front of her. This woman was supposedly one of Dick and Barbara’s best friends, and Steph could practically feel the pain rolling off of her in waves.

            “Hey…” Steph said, trying again. “Are you…?” Artemis turned towards her with a sharp jerk.

            “Don’t,” she said, a death grip on her coffee. “Don’t even try to do this.” Steph tried not to be intimidated. She didn’t step back.

            “I’m not…” she started, pausing so she could pick her words.

            “You were just about to ask if I was okay,” Artemis offered like an accusation. She carefully removed her mask and set it on her lap. Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest.

            “I could have been asking something else.” She swore she could see the corners of Artemis’ lips quirk up, if only just slightly.

            “You could have, but you weren’t.” She turned her eyes towards Stephanie. “Trust me, kid. I have been asked that question far too many times for me to not know when it’s coming.”

            Stephanie couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Everyone had heard the stories of the hell Artemis Crock had gone through. She noticed the way Artemis’ eyes held her own. There was a challenge there, but there was a horrible honesty too. They both stared at one another, eyes locked for what seemed like forever. Stephanie felt like she was being let in on some secret. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt nervously. She wasn’t sure it was a secret she wanted to hold anymore of. Artemis was the first one to look away, her eyes darting upward. A heavy sigh brought them down, her gaze settling into her lap.

            “Barbara isn’t going to take this well,” she all but whispered. Stephanie nodded and turned her eyes to her shoes.

            “You don’t think he’s going to make it, do you?” She asked, not really wanting to hear an answer.

            “I don’t know.”

            “But we got him,” Stephanie said, eyes still down. “We got to them. That’s how the story is suppose to go.” She was a little surprised with the conviction she heard in her own voice. Even more surprised by the dry laugh that came from the woman next to her.

            “You and I both know there aren’t happy endings in this line of work.” Neither one of them were looking at the other now.

 

***

 

 

            Cass watched. She watched everyone around her flitter in and out of uneasy roles and useless sleep as the plane flew itself back towards Gotham City. Back towards home.

            She watched Dick, shaking and in pain. His eyes never stopped moving behind closed lids. She watched Jason drop a blanket over Damian and whisper _“this isn’t your fault,”_ into the boy’s ear. And then she watched Damian get up, stalk away to change, only to come back and keep a constant vigil by Dick’s side.

            Cass watched as both Tim and Jason fought to stay awake, only to have exhaustion take them. But neither one had an easy sleep. The both moved, and both woke every fifteen minutes or so – jumping like they’d fallen in their dreams.

            She watched as Stephanie moved from person to person, bringing coffee or water. And she heard her crying off to the side where the blonde thought no one could hear. Cass considered going over to her, to hug her or hold her hand, but she figured if Steph had wanted to be comforted, she wouldn’t have tried to hide her fears. She knew that Stephanie would do everything she could to make everyone else feel better, even as she fought to swallow down her own pain. There were too many complicated emotions going on for any of them to deal with.

            Cass lifted her head as Artemis joined them in the back of the plane. Everyone around them was asleep. Even Damian had had to give in – likely due to the sedatives he’d been given earlier. Damian was too stubborn to have given in to sleep otherwise.

            “How is he?” Artemis asked, her body appearing to be frozen in the doorway, unable to move any closer.

            Cass shrugged. She had no real way of knowing. “The same,” she answered. And that’s all Artemis seemed able to take. The older woman gave her a nod and them moved back to the head of the plane.

            The silence and stirring repeated for another hour or so, Cass perched on her seat, keeping watch over all of them. She heard the whine of the engines lessen ever so slightly, and felt the plane begin to descend. Artemis appeared in the doorway yet again, mask back covering her features.

            The women exchanged a quick glance before Artemis moved to Jason, a hand running over his shoulder. Cass watched Jason's eyes open from a fitful sleep, his lips curling slightly as he focused on Artemis. She offered the smallest of smiles in return.

            "Prep him." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "We're coming into Gotham." Jason's hand squeezed hers and he nodded. Artemis turned away, never seeing the grimace of pain that crossed Jason's features as he sat up.

            Cass was already up and moving as well, a soft hand waking both of the other boys from their slumbers. Jason's foot tapped against the bottom of Steph's to wake her.

            She felt the plane descend lower as they lifted Dick onto a collapsible stretcher. Red stains of blood were already soaking through the grey t-shirt they had pulled over his body.

            Each of them showed their nerves differently. Jason's right hand tapped incessantly against his thigh, where Cass knew a pistol would normally be holstered. Timmy checked his wrist computer, scanned Dick's vitals, double checked the time, turned the computer off, and then repeated the process over again. Damian's eyes never moved from his oldest brother's face. Stephanie was talking, of course, about... something. Cass didn't even think the blonde knew _what_ she was saying at this point, it was just important for her to fill the silence. And even through the open doorway, Cass could see Artemis' shoulder muscles clench. The personal demons she must be going through...

            A higher pitched whine caught her attention as she felt the plane gently touch down. A sharp hiss preceded the back door to the craft opening, and she gabbed one of the handles for the stretcher. The other older members of her family all grabbed a handle as well. Damian followed behind.

            As the four of them jogged down the ramp, she saw Dr. Leslie Thompkins, a team of medics, and... Alfred waiting for them. Though she never would have let it show on her face, Cass was surprised to see their caretaker already there.

            With a lift, which was accompanied by a grimace from Jason, Dick was placed on a gurney, and the medics started wheeling him towards an elevator. Dr. Thompkins moved with a speed that belied her age between each of the boys.

            "Fluids, and a full blood workup," she said, shining a light into Damian's eyes.

            "Rest, but fluids wouldn't hurt." Her diagnosis for Timmy.

            "You need more medical attention. Stitches at the very least." Jason opened his mouth to protest. "I saw your face when you lifted him, Jason. You're doing as I tell you." Cass saw his shoulders slump in defeat, his head moving in a miniscule nod. Satisfied, Dr. Thompkins turned and jogged after the medics and Dick.

            Cass heard the sound of the plane's engines revving up again. Turning back to look, she saw Artemis at the top of the ramp, holding on as it closed. Cass couldn't be sure, but she was almost certain she saw tears streaming down the older woman's cheeks.

            The intensity of her gaze on the black plane rising up into the Gotham night was interrupted by a pair of arms circling around her shoulders. She instantly recognized Alfred's smell; a mix of strong, black English tea, and a hint of aftershave. Cass moved her hands to pat his, turning to offer him a small smile.

            She watched as he moved hug Stephanie, the blonde throwing her arms around him in a bear hug. Offering only a nod to Jason, Cass guessed out of deference to his injuries, Alfred pulled the two younger boys to him.

            "I'm so glad you're not more worse for wear from the accident on your camping trip." It was subtle, but Cass knew that he had just given them the cover story for why the boys had gotten injured.

            A snort from behind her, that she knew without looking came from Jason, ended the tender moment. "Camping accident? That's the best anyone could come up with?" The derision in the older man's voice barely hid the exhaustion... and the regret.

            "We thought about telling everyone that Master Bruce's wards had all been on Santa Prisca, but we couldn't come up with a better reason than unfathomable stupidity." Cass could only describe Jason's face as someone who just got blindsided, and behind him, she saw Stephanie mouth the word "burn".

            The group of them, with a ragtag mix of fashions from Jason's biker-grunge-just-rolled-out-of-bed look to Stephanie's crisp jeans and fashionable t-shirt to Alfred's dress pants, turtleneck sweater, and corduroy jacket, made their way to a different elevator than the one Dick had been wheeled into. Alfred pressed a button to send them down, and when the doors opened they were in front of a nondescript looking door that simply said "Waiting Room".

            Inside that room sat a redhead in a wheelchair, the closest thing any of them still had to a mother. "There's my lost boys." Barbara offered the three remaining bat-boys what Cass could only describe as a relieved smile.

            "Hey now," Stephanie spoke up, pointing to herself. "Lost girl."

            "You, blondie, were never lost. I knew exactly where you were at all times." Barbara pulled her in for a hug, Cass watching as her lips mouthed an inaudible "thank you" into her ear. Stephanie allowed herself a smile, one of the few she had cracked since finding the boys.

            Cass' eyes followed Barbara as she wheeled herself over to Jason, delivering a punch to his arm. It was probably harder than she should have hit him, but Cass could see the mix of anger and concern on Barbara's face.

            "Ow." Jason rubbed his arm slowly.

            "That didn't hurt." Barbara's eyes traced up and down the second Robin's body. Her lips pulled into a tight line. "Get yourself some medical attention." A grunt to the affirmative followed. It sounded resigned. Cass didn't know a grunt could sound resigned.

            Barbara pulled Tim into an embrace as well, her hand rubbing his back. Cass watched as his body practically collapsed into hers, the weight of the ordeal seemingly rolling off of him. When Tim pulled back, Cass could see the tears he was fighting. "It's okay," Barbara told him, a hand on his shoulder. "We'll talk later."

            And with that, she turned to Damian. The youngest Robin stared defiantly at her, his arms across his chest. Barbara opened her arms. "Get over here, D." Damian lifted his chin, the staring match continuing. But Cass saw the boy's jaw waver, and then cave completely as he walked over and reluctantly hugged the wheelchair-bound woman. Barbara rubbed his back once and then pulled back, her face inches from his.

            "We _will_ be talking later, little bird. You can count on that." Cass decided that if a person's face could remain unmoved, but their eyes had a look of pure terror, that was the look on Damian Wayne's face at that moment.

            The group of them dispersed throughout the room and elsewhere. Jason disappeared to get that medical attention he had been told, ordered, to receive. Damian absconded to a corner while Stephanie sat nearby. Barbara and Tim were engaged in low conversation about the mission, Tim gesturing with his hands as he described the operation on Santa Prisca. The conversation remained purely focused on the technical, factual aspects of the operation, Cass observed from her perch sitting on a window sill. Nurses arrived a short time later, hooking both boys up with fluids as ordered by Dr. Thompkins.

            There was a short knock on the door before it opened and in walked Bruce Wayne, looking more tired than Cass had ever remembered seeing him. He wore a suit and dress shirt, but no tie, and it all looked as if he'd gotten dressed while running up the stairs. Maybe he had.

            Bruce moved into the room quickly, picking Damian up off the chair and enveloping him in a hug. Cass allowed herself a small smile as, for the first time that night, the boy didn't resist when someone tried to hug him. He wrapped his arms around his father's neck, almost as if he was never going to let go. Bruce put the boy down, and proceeded to give each of the other bat-children in the room hugs as well. It was the most physical affection Cass had ever seen Bruce Wayne dole out.

            A few minutes later, Cass remained perched on her window sill, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, but everyone else had moved. Bruce was sitting on one of the couches in the room, his arm splayed over the back, and Damian's head rested on his leg. The boy's eyes were closed, and Cass watched the slow up and down heave of his chest. For the first time tonight, he slept peacefully.

            Tim and Stephanie were also asleep, albeit in a much different position. They were sitting in chairs next to each other, not like normal people, but turned so that they were sitting back to back over the armrests. Stephanie's mouth hung open as Tim's chin touched his chest, both unconscious to the world. Barbara remained huddled in a corner, still typing on a small computer on her lap.

            There was another soft knock on the door and Cass looked up to see Superman. Well, sort of. It was Superman, she had no doubts about that, but he was dressed in a suit and tie himself and wore a pair of glasses. It was a terrible disguise, she thought. He was still instantly recognizable to anyone who knew what Superman looked like.

            What happened next was what Cass could only describe as one of the most intense non-verbal conversations she had ever witnessed. And she'd seen Dick and Barbara exchange daggers on more than one occasion. Superman looked pointedly at Bruce and raised his eyebrows, which was responded to with Bruce's eyes darting down to a sleeping Damian and then back to Superman. The Man of Steel followed with another, even more pointed, eyebrow raise, which was met again by a death glare from Bruce. Cass believed that if the Batman could shoot lasers from his eyes as Superman could, the man near the door would have been a smoldering pile of ash.

            After all that, and it really had only taken a few seconds, Bruce extracted himself delicately from Damian. The boy's head dropped to the couch, but he did not stir. Cass could tell that Bruce was grateful as he marched over to Superman and out the door. It closed behind them, but a curved mirror near the ceiling in the hallway allowed her to see where they stood just outside the room. She instantly recognized the third person with them: Wonder Woman, in civilian clothing as well.

            "We need to talk about this, Bruce," said Superman. Cass could still hear their muffled conversation through the doorway. "We need to figure out how this could have happened. Why they're targeting your... your family."

            "Not now, Clark." The Batman responded, his muscles visibly tight even through the reflection. Cass also filed away in her memory the first name of Superman's secret identity.

            "Bruce, please. Let us help you, for God's sake!"

            "Not. Right. Now. Clark." Bruce's back was to the mirror, but the tone of his voice told Cass that his jaw was tightly clenched.

            "But --"

            "No."

            "Fine." Superman, Clark, sounded resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to change Bruce's mind at this moment. It was a lesson Cass was surprised he hadn't learned before. "But when? You can't let this one go forever. When are we going to deal with this, Bruce?"

            "How about when one of my sons isn't in intensive care?" There was a thick layer of pain to the Batman's voice, audible even through the closed door. Cass saw Superman open his mouth to respond when Wonder Woman place a hand on his shoulder, lean up, and whisper something in his ear.

            "Oh... yes. Of course. I'll... I'll get back to you later, Bruce." Cass watched as her adoptive father nodded simply. Superman turned to walk away, but Wonder Woman lingered for a moment. From his reflection in the mirror, Cass couldn't tell what, if anything, Bruce said to her, but Cass watched Wonder Woman nod with her eyes before turning and following the Man of Steel down the hallway.

            The door opened slowly, and Cass saw a new heaviness to Bruce's shoulders as he walked in. He moved back over to the couch, sinking down and resting a hand on Damian's shoulder as he looked over at her. Cass couldn't think of anything to say, so she offered the best comfort she had at the moment: she gave him a small smile. Bruce returned it, and then his eyes moved from her to focus on the wall.

            Cass didn't say anything. She knew they were all dealing with personal demons now.

***

 

            It was far too quiet. The street outside Gotham General was far too quiet and Jason didn't like it. They’d gone flying past here dozens of times before, sometimes in pursuit of some two-bit criminal, sometimes after the Joker, but it was never quiet. It unnerved him.

            Jason took another long drag on the cigarette in his mouth, finishing it. He tossed the butt away, watching it flip end over end until it hit the brick wall of the alley and dropped to the ground. There it joined so many others. Jason didn't know how many of what Dick affectionately called "death sticks" he'd had in a row, but he knew he needed another. Pulling a pack from his pocket, he smacked it once, pulling out another thin cylinder of relief and cancer, put it between his lips, and lit the end.

            "Jason." He stopped mid-inhale, turning to see a wheelchair crossing onto the sidewalk towards him. Barbara's gaze flicked pointedly to the cigarette in his mouth from behind the thin frames of her glasses, and Jason could only imagine the lecture he was in for. Something about surviving the night only to kill himself now, to be sure. He exhaled the smoke he'd been holding in his lungs.

            "Hey there, Babs." Jason pulled the cigarette from his mouth, holding it up in a somewhat helpless fashion. "Care to yell at me?" The redhead paused for a moment before her shoulders slumped. Jason could almost feel the frustration, the resignation, the exhaustion rolling off her.

            "Not today, Jay. I don't have the energy."

            "Yeah... I know the feeling." He placed the cigarette back in between his lips and inhaled as he stretched. Jason's mouth formed into a grimace and his eyes closed as he could feel his damaged ribs burn, but he ignored the pain. There would be time for recovery later. His eyes opened to see Barbara glance back up from his side where his shirt had ridden up as he stretched.

            "I'm... I'm sorry, Jason. How are you doing?" The genuine concern in her voice caught him off guard. Barbara sounded almost motherly, nothing like the hard taskmaster that usually came over their... okay, his, radio as Oracle. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

            "I'll live." The original Batgirl's eyes rolled, a slight smirk cracking her lips. That was the Barbara he knew. "Broken ribs and stuff. The docs patched me up." It wasn't that much of a lie. He had a mild concussion, five cracked ribs, and a number of pretty deep bone bruises. Jason had come back from missions in worse shape before, but it was as bad as it had been in a while.

            "You've got to be exhausted. When was the last time you slept?" And she slipped back to motherly. Her mood had more ups and downs than the Joker's laugh right now. Jason shook his head quickly as he took another drag on his cigarette.

            "I may have been unconscious on the trip home for a little while. The Batplane isn't really meant for sleeping, you know?" He exhaled and leaned heavily against the wrought iron railing near the building. "Besides, as awful as the hospital's coffee is, I've had enough caffeine to keep me up for a week at this point." Jason glanced down at her, a sad smile creasing his face. "What about you? I'd be my pack you haven't slept since Damian's name came up on your scanners."

            Her short response didn't surprise him. "I manage." He expected nothing less from Barbara. She was a rock, or at least she pretended to be, second only to Bruce. Jason inserted the cigarette back between his lips before pulling the pack from his pocket and smacking it again. He held it out to her, only half-joking.

            "You want?" Jason's eyebrows jumped in surprise as she took one from the pack and then held her hand out for his lighter. His hand fumbled in his pocket for a moment before flipping it to her. "Aaaaaah... Babs?"

            "Don't tell anyone." With the motions of a practiced expert, she lit the cigarette and took a long, slow drag. Jason watched her hold the smoke for a moment before exhaling out her nose. Barbara looked up at him. "Especially not Dick, okay?"

            Jason had to reach up and take his own cigarette to stop it from falling out of his mouth. "Since when do you smoke?"

            A low chuckle escaped from her lips as she took another slow drag. "Some of us still manage to keep secrets, Jason Todd." She exhaled again. "My dad used to smoke when I was a kid. I stole a few here and there until I started wearing the cowl. Dick... he caught the smell on me once, and he flipped out." Barbara took another pull on the cigarette, looking back at the hospital as she leaned back in her chair. "I knew all the bad stuff it could do to me. So... I just stopped."

            She looked back up at him, and Jason shot her a disbelieving gaze. "Uh huh. Babs, you didn't just take that like you haven't had one in years." Barbara opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her eyes turned back to the hospital as she sat in silence.

            "Hey, I'm not one to judge. I'm just saying..."

            "When Dick left, and then I got shot... I sort of spiraled for a little bit." Jason had heard rumors, but nothing concrete. It didn't matter to him anyway. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. It occurred to him that may have been one of the most human things he'd ever done.

            "Falling down doesn't make you weak, Barb."

            "You would know." Jason guessed her response was probably quicker and sharper than she would have liked by the look in her eyes when she glanced back up at him. He shrugged it off, pulling the cigarette from his mouth, tapping the ashes onto the ground, and pointing it at her.

            "You stopped though?"

            "For the most part." Barbara took one last drag and then turned to put out her cigarette on the railing, crumpling it before flicking it onto the ground. Her eyes turned back to the hospital, hands rubbing over her own arms in the night air. For a little while, the only sound was Jason inhaling and exhaling off his own cigarette.

            "Barb... have you seen him yet?"

            "Have you?" There was a defensiveness and bitterness in her voice that Jason didn't fully expect. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, so he did what came naturally to him: he laughed.

            "I carried his ass through a jungle, across an island, and have bloodstains on my clothes that don't belong to me," he said, gesturing to some remaining blood on pants that he hadn't changed. "I think I got to deal with him at the worst of all of this." Jason watched as Barbara's head bowed, and he knew that his words had hurt her. He hadn't meant to, but he knew she was now mentally berating herself for not being there, for not being able to stop them from leaving, for many, many things that were far beyond her control.

            Jason cleared his throat. "But no, no. I haven't seen him since the doctors took over."

            "There was a lot of blood, wasn't there?" Barbara's voice was low, barely above a whisper, and Jason had to strain to hear it. He could tell she was doing her best to keep it level, contained. Long red locks cascaded over the side of her face, shielding eyes that may or may not have held tears.

            "There wasn't... I mean there was some." Jason sighed and let his weight slump against the railing again. "Babs..." She looked up as he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing over more than a day of scruff and stubble. Normally he wouldn't mind, but now it just reminded him of the ordeal they had all gone through. "No. Can I be honest?"

            "Aren't you always?" Jason ignored the snark, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. At least Barbara hadn't spiraled down completely. He took a deep breath, finishing his cigarette, before dropping it and crushing it with his boot.

            "The worst of it wasn't the blood. I mean, I know his knee is pretty fucked up or whatever, but the worst of it? The worst of it was the nightmares."

            "Nightmares?" Jason clenched his jaw as he stared straight ahead.

            "The psychos found a way to put them up on the big screen, live and in color." His hands balled into fists, muscles tightened as the images flashed before him even though his eyes remained focused on the glowing hospital sign across the street. "The way Dick reacted, the way he..." Jason's eyes squeezed shut. "It made his old panic attacks look like a joke. And I only saw that shit once." Barbara stayed silent as his hands shook, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette and his lighter.

            "I know all of us have our nightmares. We're all pretty screwed up, right? Me dying. You getting shot. Steph with the shit she went through as a kid. Cass's training. Tim and Dick's parents dying. I mean seriously, how fucked in the head do you have to be to put a target on your chest like we do?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barbara raise an eyebrow, but she stayed silent. His shaking hands finally managed to spark the lighter. Jason stared at the flame for a moment, not lighting his cigarette, before speaking.

            "I guess, look, I heard him have nightmares when we were in Europe. I knew they were bad, but he still wears that fucking cocky smile all the goddamn time. I just... I guess I wasn't expecting his to be so fucked up." He took his thumb off the lighter, letting the flame extinguish. The unlit cigarette still hung from his lips.

            "You have enough demons in your own head, Jason." Jason felt Barbara reach a hand out and place it against his arm. "It isn't like you needed anyone else's, too."

            His eyes refocused on the hospital sign across the street. "You still have nightmares?"

            "All the time." She moved her hand from his arm, staring at the hospital with him. "And we both probably acquired a few more in the last 48 hours." A sharp laugh escaped from Jason's lips at her remark.

            "No kidding." Neither of them spoke for a long while. Finally, Jason looked down, checked the watch on Barbara's wrist, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go see him, Barb. If the mere presence of anyone is going to get him through a drug-induced hell, it's going to be yours."

            She offered him a small smile, nodding and squeezing his hand before starting to wheel herself back across the street. Jason reached into his pocket, pulling out the lighter again. Before he could flick it on, he stopped.

            "Babs?" She stopped her slow motions towards the hospital, but didn't turn around. "He's an absolute fucking idiot, but he still loves you." Jason watched the muscles in Barbara's back tighten for a moment before relaxing.

            "I know." He watched her wheel back through the doors of the hospital, and he finally lit the cigarette that had been lingering between his lips. As he inhaled, he felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over him. Jason shook his head, staring up at the Gotham sky. His body wanted him to sleep, but his mind wanted nothing to do with that embrace. He knew the nightmares that waited for him.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dick Grayson fights for life, old relationships are rekindled as new ones blossom. But a ghost from their collective pasts, a ghost now all too real, will reshape each of their futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUHHHHH! So for real, this is the final chapter. I cannot even express how much we appreciate everyone who has been supporting us and leaving feedback throughout the process. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! We hope you enjoy the final chapter! Be on the look out for a sequel (coming, eventually) and short stories that will be filling in the gaps of the before of this story.

**_Chapter Ten_ **

****

            Slowly, her hands shaking on the wheels of her chair, Barbara came to the closed door of Dick’s room. The words **Private Room** were stamped across it, and she knew that that could be her excuse. She could go back to the waiting room right now and rejoin the others. And then, she could feign ignorance – it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for her to tell everyone that she didn’t realize she could have knocked. But she was smarter than that. Everyone would know that she was lying – even though not a single one of them would call it like it really was. None of them would dare call her afraid. Barbara raised her hand to knock.

            A nurse answered the door. Pretty, brunette, slender, and with a slightly condescending look on her face.

            “I’m sorry, Miss,” the nurse said. “Only family is allowed in at this time.” The woman didn’t sound sorry. On the contrary, she sounded pleased to have some type of power on her hands. Barbara was just about to let the brunette know when she could shove her sorry when Dr. Thompkin’s voice called from the inside.

            “Let her in, Jenna. Anyone who can make it past that waiting room is allowed in the room.”

            The woman reluctantly opened the door wider to let her in. Barbara froze however, when the young woman came around behind her and placed her hands on Barbara’s chair.

            “What are you doing?” Barbara demanded, applying the manual brake.

            “I was just!” The nurse said, still not seeming to realize that she should let go of the chair.

            “Leave her be, Jenna,” Dr. Thompkins said exhaustedly. The older woman didn’t even bother to look up from the chart in front of her. “That young woman can move around better than I assume you can in a pair of one inch heels.” The woman backed off with a huff, but she didn’t leave the room.

            Barbara wheeled herself closer to the bed, her eyes scanning Dick’s body. His leg was pretty well secured, and there was no sign of the blood that had stained Jason’s pants. But the lack of blood didn’t make the scene in front of her any less terrifying. Dick was hooked up to at least four different machines that Barbara could see – each of them beeping or pinging softly. She was dying to get the chart in Dr. Thompkin’s hands. A part of her was also desperate to run her fingers over the patches of exposed skin to remind herself that this _body_ in front of her was still her Nightwing. She bit her lip, reaching out tentatively. No, this wasn’t Nightwing. This was undeniably Dick Grayson: human, fragile, breakable –

            “So are you a friend of the Wayne Family?” Jenna’s falsely chipper voice shattered whatever moment Barbara was about to have. She drew her hand quickly back into her lap.

            “I beg your pardon?” Barbara questioned, her eyes flitting over to the nurse briefly, before turning back towards Dick.

            “A friend of the family,” Jenna replied. Each of her words was repeated slowly. Barbara had to admit that she had heard her the first time – she just didn’t see how her relationship to Dick was any of this woman’s damn business. But Nurse Jenna was talking again.

            “We’re just trying to be extra careful, ya’ know?” Jenna supplied.

            Yes, Barbara knew. In fact she knew better than Jenna ever would. Again, Barbara opened her mouth to talk, but Jenna plowed right on through.

            “You see, with Richard being one of Mister Wayne’s children, Dr. Thompkins is worried there might be paparazzi trying to get in. We’re trying to keep this whole camping trip fiasco quite.”

            _Richard?_ Oh sweet Jesus, no one, not a single person since the teachers at Gotham Academy, had called Dick _Richard._ Barbara glanced up to see Dr. Thompkins adamantly trying to focus on the chart and not whatever hideous ass handing Barbara was about to deliver. But the nurse had no idea. She kept talking. Every word from her mouth had Barbara wondering how much it would take it get it reduced down to “justifiable homicide” if she pushed the woman out the hospital window.

            “I’m his!” Barbara interrupted, and then stopped. His what? She looked down at Dick like he was going to be able to magically give her the answer to whatever they were. It didn’t matter though, Nurse Jenna didn’t seem to have heard her.

            “You have to understand, with someone of Richard Wayne’s, shall we say standing? There are always going to be women who will want to- ”

            “Enough,” Barbara finally said, her voice dropping to the deadly tone she usually reserved for villains, occasionally Bruce when he needed to be told off, and definitely Dick when he was getting on her nerves.

            “His name,” Barbara started coldly, “is Richard John _Grayson_. But the truth is, he hates being called Richard, because it was what his mother called him when she was angry. His last name has never been Wayne, because when Bruce finally did adopt him, they sat down and had a conversation about it. They both decided that it was the right thing for Dick to keep his parents’ name as a lasting memory to them – even though Dick was really worried Bruce was going to be offended, which he wasn’t. And as for money hungry little doxies who might be trying to use this as an opportunity to- ” But Dr. Thompkins didn’t let her finish.

            “Jenna!” The older woman called, stepping in between the two younger women. Barbara hadn’t noticed when she’d started to move away from the bed. “Jenna, why don’t you take this down to pathology for me,” she handed Jenna a folded piece of paper, “and see if they have any of my lab work done yet.”

            Jenna took the paper with a smile for Dr. Thompkins and something too closely resembling a sneer for Barbara.

            “Of course, Dr. Thompkins. You know I’ll help in anyway I can.” And then the girl mercifully, went out the door.

            “I could have taken her,” Barbara announced once the doctor had turned to look at her. Dr. Thompkins raised an eyebrow in away that reminded Barbara too much of Alfred.

            “I never had any doubt of that, Ms. Gordon.” Dr. Thompkins’ look of reproach faded into a small smile as she motioned Barbara back over towards the bed. “Bruce and Alfred have both been in to see him,” she said.

            “Is there anything to know?” Barbara asked, finally getting her chance to run her fingers over one of Dick’s callused palms – the one not attached to an IV.

            “Not really,” Dr. Thompkins admitted, sounding frustrated. “Not until I can get that blood work back.” Barbara just nodded. “It’s none of my business,” Leslie began, laying a hand on Barbara’s shoulder, “But are the two of you dating again?”

            “I…” Barbara started. “We’re…”

            “Ah, the usual then,” Dr. Thompkins supplied, her fingers squeezing Barbara’s shoulder slightly. The older woman turned to recollect the chart and other papers that had been left on an elevated table at the end of the bed. “I’m going to be stepping out for a bit. Got to see how many fires I can light to get the information I want.”

            “Can I…” Barbara started, her eyes still looking at Dick. “Can I stay?”

            “Of course you can, my dear. Stay as long as you need.”

            Barbara turned to smile at her, and then watch the woman leave the room, her fingers never moving from the pulse point on Dick’s wrist.

           “Come on, Boy Wonder,” she whispered, finally letting the tears start to slide down her face. “I still need you.”

* x *

 

          Dick opened his eyes. The room around him was a pale white, and the brightness of the lights that pierced his pupils made him squint in pain. Where was he? Everything around him seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on where he'd seen it all before.

            And what had woken him? He was alone at the moment. The last he remembered, he'd been in the jungle with Jason. Dick remembered hearing a voice, a female voice. A voice dripping with concern over his well-being, trying its best not to crack, not to cry.

            Dick looked around, but couldn't see her. The room didn't look like a hospital ward. It looked like a well-furnished hotel. As he sat up, Dick rubbed his hands against his face, his head pounding from the exertion of the movement. This was all so confusing, so... strange. He didn't know how he'd gotten here, didn't remember anything since the jungle.

            "Dick!" A voice pierced his thoughts, and he looked up to see a mop of red hair bounding through the door to his room. But it wasn't the redhead that he'd expected to see.

            "Wally?" His best friend's name escaped his lips a millisecond after it flashed through his brain. The last time Dick had seen Wally was a flash in a swirling vortex of energy, and when that vortex had finally faded, his friend was nowhere to be seen. But now here he was, in the flesh, green eyes bright and smile big.

            "Uh, yeah, lover boy. Who'd you expect? The blushing bride?" Wally laughed as Dick's mouth dropped open. "You know you don't get to see her until everyone else does, Romeo." The speedster's eyes moved past Dick to the bed with messy sheets behind him.

            "Dude, tell me you did not just fall asleep on your wedding day. In your tux."

            "In my... what?" In a speed that could have only been beaten by Wally, Dick was over at the mirror in front of the sink. His face looked slightly older, but beyond that there was no change in his appearance. His clothes however, were a different story. A crisp black tux clung to his body, a vibrant blue tie hung from his neck, and a yellow daisy adorned his lapel.

            "You're lucky you didn't squish that flower, Dick. She would have killed you." Dick opened his mouth to ask about his bride when he shook his head and grabbed his best friend by the shoulders.

            "Wally, what is going on here? How are you alive? How are you..." Dick paused as something on Wally's left hand caught his attention. Grabbing it, Dick held Wally's hand up in front of his face. "How are you married?" Wally laughed and backed away from Dick slightly.

            "Dude, I know it's a little freaky that bachelor extraordinaire Dick Grayson is finally settling down, but you're really starting to weird me out." Dick shook his head, rubbing his hands over his face again and again as Wally kept talking.

            "Dick, you were the Best Man at my wedding. You walked Artemis down the aisle. You're my son's godfather, for fuck's sake! Don't you remember any of that?" Wally's voice was rising now, in pitch and volume. Dick continued rubbing his face with his hands.

            "This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real." He kept mumbling that phrase over and over and over again. "You're dead. You're not here. This can't be real." Dick felt a hand place itself on his shoulder. That hand suddenly felt very heavy. He looked up into the eyes of his best friend, but they were different now. Somehow... sadder.

            Wally's clothes had also changed. He now wore the familiar yellow and red of his Kid Flash costume, his goggles pushed up his forehead, keeping his mop of red hair away from his face.

            "You're right, Dick. This isn't real. I'm not alive. And neither are you."

            The room darkened as Dick's clothes changed as well, reverting back to his familiar Nightwing uniform, torn and bloodied from the ordeal in the jungle. A faint, steady, high pitched beeping that sounded like it was off in the distance could be heard, but Dick couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from.

            A flash of light made his eyes squint. The darkness was gone, replaced by a swirling vortex of light and noise. The beeping sound was gone, replaced by a high pitched tone that only seemed to grow in volume.

            "Wally... Wally, what's going on?" A sad smile crossed his friend's face as he gestured around him.

            "You're going to die, Dick Grayson, unless you pull your head out of your ass." The redhead walked over, placing both hands on Dick's shoulders and looking him dead in the eyes. "She needs you to come back, Dick. I need you to come back."

            Dick didn't need to ask who _she_ was, and through the incessant tone, he could almost swear that he could hear her voice. "You need to find me, Dick. She can help you do that. You both need to come find me."

            "Find you?" Dick's voice strained over the growing noise around him, yelling despite the fact that his friend was within arm's reach. "Wally, you're dead! How can I find you?"

            Another smile creased Wally's face, one that Dick remembered seeing countless times in their childhood. "You know that isn't true, Dick. Think. You know where I am. You know I'm alive."

            "Wally..." A white-hot shock that seemed to be coming from Wally's hands ran through Dick's chest. He staggered in pain.

            "Wally... what the..."

            "It's time for you to go, Dick. It's time for you to bring me home." Another shot of pain arced across his abdomen. The raven-haired man dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach.

            "Wally!"

            "I'll see you soon, Dick." A final jolt sent Dick flying onto his back, his chest heaving in pain. He looked up to see his friend walking away from him, tossing a smile over his shoulder as he pulled his goggles down.

            "WALLY!"

            Everything went white.

 

* x *

 

            Barbara didn’t like being here. She hated it. The smell of disinfectant, the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs, even the sound of the air coming in through the vents nearly drove her mad. She figured it had something to do with having spent way too much time on her own, prisoner to a hospital bed. Being a watcher in a hospital though, came with its own type of shackles. Waiting, and not being able to do a damn thing, was it’s own special type of hell. She would have to remember to call her father again later. She owed him another thank-you, or five, for all the time he sat next to her hospital bed.

            The steady beep of the heart monitor lulled her back into some type of pensive trance. She supposed that rhythmic repetition could be almost soothing after awhile. At least that's what Barbara Gordon decided. It was a better sound to focus on than the soft, sometimes ragged breathing of the man she once, _still_ , loved laying in front of her.

            _Beep. Beep. Beep_.

            Dick Grayson hadn't woken up, hadn't moved, hadn't shown any acknowledgement to the steady trickle of people who came in to check on him. “Currently unresponsive.” That’s what Leslie had called it. Barbara held onto the fact that the brain scans still showed a lot of activity. He was still in there. He was still fighting.

            Clark had even stopped by. It was a nice gesture, even if the Kryptonian's super-hearing hadn't been able to tell them anything beyond what they already knew. Dinah had stopped by as well, to check on her more than Dick. Barbara had told her the same thing she told everyone else: she was fine, she would get some sleep when she could, she needed more coffee, and that she wasn't going anywhere. Dick Grayson was in the fight of his life, and there was nothing more anyone on the outside could do for him. The fight was up to him now.

            _Beep. Beep. Beep_.

            The room was empty now, except for her and the ebony-haired man laying on the bed before her. The others, all of them who shared the curse of some type of Bat-symbol had been in, stayed for a little while, and then left. Everyone besides Barbara had had to leave. No one else had been able to handle more than twenty minutes at a time. No one else, in a family full of masochists, really wanted to stomach this kind of hell.

            Barbara traced her hands down one of his arms, over the scars that slinked over his muscles like levies holding back a river. So many of those scars she recognized, knew the stories behind them, the flash of pain in his eyes or the crease of his lips that accompanied each of those ancient riverbeds of pain. And there were others, ones that she didn't recognize, didn't know the story behind. Her fingers danced over one of them, twisting and learning the unfamiliar pattern. Now Barbara was worried she would never learn those stories, never have the chance to soothe those wounds with soft kisses like she had with so many others.

           

 _Beep. Beep. Beep_.

            Barbara ran a hand through her own ragged, crimson hair. She couldn't remember the last time she'd showered. Or slept. Or ate. Or... anything, really. Ever since Damian had disappeared, her only thought had been on bringing him, and then the boys, home. The redhead knew she would have time to do all those things once Dick woke up, once he was okay.

            _Beep. Beep. Beep_.

            "Ughwalngh..." The barest sound escaping from Dick's lips brought Barbara jolting back into the present. She shifted herself even closer to his bedside, one hand resting on his chest, the other stroking his forehead.

            "Dick... can you hear me?" She paused for a moment. There was no response, no change in the man's condition despite his breathing becoming slightly more ragged.

            "Come on, Boy Wonder," Barbara pleaded. "You have to wake up. It's time to get up now. It's time to come home..." She willed herself not to cry. She had cried too many times in the months and then years that he had been gone. She had cried too many times when her imagination had wondered, had led her to believe that maybe he wasn’t ever coming back. And then Barbara had cried too many times all over again as they had fought – trying to decide what they hell they were to each other.

            _Beep. Beep. Beep_.  
            The steady pace from Dick's heart monitor had picked up in intensity. Barbara ignored it. Moving her hand from his chest to grasp one of his, she leaned her lips down to Dick's ear.

            "You need to wake up, Dick. You have to come back to me." The once-soothing beeping was now even faster, feeling more like a ticking time bomb than one of the only indicators the original Robin was still among the living.

            "Dick, please." Barbara was begging with him now, tears snaking down her cheeks like those scars snaked down his arms. "Please. I still love you."

            _Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep_.

            Her head shot up from its resting place next to Dick Grayson's ear to glare at the monitor. The steady up and down lines had been replaced by a single, steady, unending straight one.

            "No!" Barbara screamed with enough force that Dinah would have been proud of her. Her green eyes, so similar in color to that traitorous straight line, stared it down, as if daring it to continue defying her wishes. It did.

            The room was suddenly a whirlwind of noise and motion. Dr. Thompkins was first through the door, pulling her away from the side of the bed as an assistant followed with a crash cart. Barbara leaned from her chair, clawing at Dick's blankets, desperately trying to hold on to something, _anything_ , as she hoped he clung to life.

            She was able to place herself at the foot of the hospital bed, clutching the footboard with a vice grip as Thompkins rubbed the paddles together.

            "Clear!" The snow-haired woman pressed the paddles against Dick's now pale skin. Barbara could hear the charge, and the discharge. She saw his muscles tighten, but the heart monitor did not stop its incessant, taunting tone. Dr. Thompkins' mouth tightened as she turned to her assistant.

            "Clear!" Again, she pressed the paddles against the raven-haired man's chest.

            There was nothing, no movement. The steady tone continued. Barbara could feel the tears in her eyes, blurring the scene around her, but doing nothing to stop it from searing itself into her mind. This was another nightmare that would live with her forever. She brought her eyes up, locking with Dr. Thompkins’, begging, pleading with the older woman not to give up. The doctor almost sighed, a resigned resolve on her face as she turned back to the crash cart one last time.

            "Clear." Leslie Thompkins pressed the paddles into Dick Grayson's chest with force, the shock coursing through his body one last time. Time seemed to stop for Barbara as she watched him lay there, before he drew a haggard gasp of air through his lips. That stupid green line pushed up again, weakly, up and down it went. Barbara couldn’t help the sob of relief that slip through her lips. With an exhausted smile, she let her eyes travel back up to his face – and her heart clenched. The slightest bit of blue met her gaze.

            Dick's eyes cracked open slowly.

 

 

* x *

            Artemis stretched her arms out over the side of her battered couch. The apartment was small, and there wasn’t a lot of stuff in, but it was her home now. It had been a decent day. There had been a lot of decent days over the past couple months. She’d gotten up, gotten to stretch and take Brucely for a walk. The aforementioned pit bull now snored noisily at her feet. She leaned across to scratch his ears lovingly. Artemis mentally noted that she hadn’t felt this calm in a long time. Things weren’t perfect, but they were… they were okay. And okay was a really good start.

            She was just about to head to the kitchen to start lunch when there was a knock at the front door. Brucely perked his head up only to yawn disinterestedly.

            “Some guard dog you are,” Artemis laughed, pulling her body up from the couch. The number of people it was likely to be was small, in fact she had it narrowed down to one even before she got close enough to look through the peep hole. On the other side stood a young man in a battered leather jacket. Artemis smirked and pulled the door open.

            “And what do you want?” She offered in greeting. She watched as a lazy smile crossed his face, and rolled her eyes as he took the time to look her over. His eyes hungrily taking in her white tank top and jeans, made her smirk. This boy fancied himself a predator.

            “What?” Jason asked, mock hurt in his voice. “Can’t I just swing by to say hello?” Before she could answer, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, hard.

            Artemis’s mind flashed her back to the first time this had happened. Before she thought he was anything but some punk pulling a red helmet from his head in a dirty alleyway of a European country. She remembered the tastes of him then, cigarettes and the slightest hint of desperation. But this time, she hadn’t chased him down on Barbara’s insistence – on Barbara’s dream that he might have been someone else. No, this time, like so many other times since the first, he had come to her. With a slight smile, she pulled back from him.

            “You could,” she answered, her voice husky. “But you don’t.” His laughter reached her ears.

            “Please, I’ve been coming over to say hi pretty frequently these past few weeks.”

            Artemis snorted, pulling him in through the door by his jacket collar.

            “If by “hi” you mean something else entirely,” she laughed.   It had started simple enough. There had been that time in Europe. Then when he and Dick had come back, it had happened, over and over again: both of them using the other’s body to chase away the feeling of emptiness that clung to their souls like frost to the windows in winter. It had been about not feeling lost, about not feeling alone. But lately it had been…

            “I may,” he growled, low and in her ear. “I may have just come from the Good Doctor Thompkins.” He maneuvered her body against the now closed door, arms on either side.

            Artemis found herself musing about just how horrible her dog really was at guarding her, as he stayed on the couch while Jason Todd pinned her to the door. Either that, or the poor thing had just seen this scene too many times to care.

            “Oh?” Artemis quipped, bring herself back to the present, to the feeling of his leg brushing against hers.

            “I am officially cleared to resume normal activities,” his mouth was by her ear, his breath teasing the fine hairs at the back of her neck. “It means that I no longer have to play nice.”

            And good Lord did he feel wonderful, all tight muscles pressing against her. But when she closed her eyes, she saw something else. She saw blood and bruises and broken bones. Artemis’s eyes opened in time to see him coming in for another kiss, but she turned her head away, his lips coming up short, just ghosting over her high cheekbone. He pulled away, the cooler air of the apartment seeping in between them.

            “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes trying to find hers. “I thought you’d be happy to –”

            Artemis expertly extricated herself from between his arms, crossing hers as she moved away from him

            “It’s not that… it’s just…” He didn't let her finish before his fingers wrapped themselves loosely around her bicep. She could break the hold easily if she’d wanted to. All it would take would be to move a few steps forward.

            “Artemis, talk to me.” The way he said her name made her stomach turn. Like he didn't pity her, like he understood. But she didn't want understanding right now. She turned to him, her eyes squinting as if to read his face.

            “Jason, are you even a little bit sorry for what you guys did?”

            His head cocked to the side, but he didn't pull away. He didn't raise his voice.

            “No,” he replied, matter of fact. “We did what we had to do.”

            It might have been a little irrational, but Artemis could feel a twinge of anger spark in her chest.

            “No, you did something stupid,” she answered flatly. She couldn’t shake the image of a bloody Jason half carrying, half dragging his unconscious brother across an open beach as they were fired at. “You guys went and did something completely reckless without thinking through the consequences.” She wanted to fight. She could feel it building inside of her. But Jason stayed standing in front of her, remarkably calm.

            “We’re talking about the same thing, right? Going to rescues the little monster from his kidnappers?” It frustrated her that he didn’t even raise his voice – that he just stood there, arms at his sides. Her voice, however, rose sharply.

            “Yeah, same thing, Jay.” She could feel herself starting to shake, but Artemis, for the life of her, couldn’t put her finger on why. Why _now_ , after weeks, she wanted to have this fight, but she did.   “But I’m pretty sure what you meant to say was running headlong into a trap that almost cost –”

            “Hey, everything’s fine. Everything turned out okay.” His voice was still so calm, so rational – way more than it had any right to be.

            “Yeah, this time!” Her voice cracked, as if her body just _had_ to point out the difference between the two of them. “Jesus, I thought Dick was done making these kinds of stupid mistakes.”

            “Please,” Jason had the audacity to chuckle. “Dick and stupid go hand in hand sometimes, you know that.”

            “I do, a little too well, thanks.” It came out bitter, and harsher than she’d meant, but right now, Artemis felt like she was running full speed at a brick wall, and she just couldn’t stop. “It was just – I mean really? No plan? No plan at all? And then to drag the rest of you into his mess!” Jason held up his hands, as though to shield himself from her. It was only then that Artemis noticed she had begun moving closer.

            “Look I’m all for shitting on Dickie bird, don’t get me wrong, but to be fair, _I_ wasn’t dragged anywhere. I probably egged him on.”

            “Fine,” Artemis said, her own recklessness boiling over. “Then why do _you_ have to be so reckless, Jason Todd? You’d think dying once was enough for you.” He pulled back from her as if she’d slapped him.

            “Hey!” Finally there was a shout to his voice.

            “Did you even think? Did it even cross your mind that – ”

            “Artemis, look at me,” he interrupted, his arms going wide. “I am completely fine.” He said it like a promise, meeting her eyes. But Artemis knew too well that those kids of promises were easily broken.

            Jason moved towards her, concern etched into the lines of his face. “What is this even about?” he asked, inches away from pulling her towards him.

            “I could have lost yo -” her hands flew up, both of them clamping over her mouth. Shaking, Artemis pulled away from him, her eyes closed, refusing to admit to what she had been about to say.

            The seconds ticked by without a sound, and Artemis’ mind thrummed with energy, even as she stood stock-still. She had been about to tell him that she couldn’t have handled loosing him. She had been seconds from admitting that maybe, _maybe_ , after all these years, she had fallen in love again.

            Slowly, as if to give her plenty of time to pull away, his arms encircled her. Jason pulled her back into his chest, his chin resting softly a toped her head. Their breathing synched easily as they stood together, saying a whole lot without any words. He knew, Artemis knew that he understood her. She opened her mouth slowly, making the decision to tell him.

            “Jason?”

            “Mmm?” he responded. She could feel the rumble through her body more than she heard it. The idea made her smile, but the vibrating of his phone, followed by the special _Oracle Calling_ melody rang out from her own, sitting on the couch.   They both separated with a sigh. But Artemis smiled softly. It was okay. There’d be time later.

 

*x*

           There was almost a smile tugging at the corner of Jason Todd's mouth as he walked into the Batcave. Despite everything that had happened over the past couple months, he was almost... _happy_... for the first time that he could remember.

            That grin that had threatened on his lips finally blossomed when he saw Artemis staring, mouth open, at the Batcave. Jason was pretty sure this was the first time she'd been in here, but he was pretty confident it wouldn't be the last. He noted that the two of them, dressed in civilian clothes, looked to be the strangest tour group of all time here in the oddest museum in history.

            It had been almost two months since Dick had finally woken up from the nightmares that Scarecrow and his toxin had plunged him into. When Bruce and the rest of the Justice League descended on Santa Prisca, everything was gone. The factory where they'd been held was just an empty shell. Jason was pretty sure that Bruce had wanted to blow up the factory just out of spite, but Wonder Woman had stopped him. In all honesty, he had never felt so close to his adopted father.

            A ding drew his attention away from the blonde beside him and towards the elevator Bruce had installed after Barbara had been shot. The doors opened, and two, not one, wheelchair-bound members of the Bat-family emerged. Dick was already in physical therapy for his mangled right leg, but was still spending most of his time in a wheelchair. Being a wheelchair jockey had turned him into something of a mini-Oracle, which frankly was something Jason didn't need in his life. One was more than enough.

            Alfred and Bruce emerged from the elevator as well, the older man setting down a tray of small sandwiches and drinks. The tray was nearly attacked by Stephanie, who, after grabbing one for herself, did turn to offer to where Tim and Cass remained sitting. Both waved her off.

            "Thanks for coming, everyone," Barbara said, spinning around as Dick wheeled himself over to the Bat-computer and began typing away.

            "Like we had a choice." Jason knew his comment, delivered under his breath, would have gone unnoticed by Barbara if Steph hadn't giggled. What followed was a song and dance Jason had seen far too many times before; he already knew all the steps.

            Babs glared at the blonde. Steph stopped laughing, but flicked her eyes over in his direction. Barbara shifted her unapproving gaze to Jason, and he shrugged his shoulders dramatically, bringing an end to the little sibling production.

            A swift elbow from Artemis to a newly healed rib provided an encore of giggles from Stephanie and broke up the usual back and forth.

            "Ow..." Mock pain entered Jason's voice as he rubbed the spot where her elbow had landed.

            "Oh shut it, that didn't hurt." Still, Artemis' lips pulled into a tight smile. The time Jason had been able to take off from crime fighting duties while he had recuperated had been, well, he called it relaxing. Others might call it something else, but he considered himself exceptionally lucky to have been able to spend most of it with her.

            "Quiet." All extraneous noise in the Batcave petered out. Jason wondered if Bruce had trained the stalactites to cease their dripping when he wanted them to. Even in civilian clothes, the man's "Batman voice" still commanded complete attention.

            Barbara nodded to their den... something... before continuing. "Right. Since the little Santa Prisca vacation you boys took," Jason was glad they were already joking about this, "we've obviously had some downtime. Dick and I have been working to crack the encryption on the files he pulled off Bane's mainframe, and once we did, it took a while to sort through everything."

            "Question." It was Timmy. Of course it was Timmy. And of course he was raising his hand like they were back at fucking Gotham Academy. Jason smirked as even Damian tutted at the gesture.

            "Drake, stop waving your arms like an imbecile. Ask your question." Jason watched Timmy shoot the youngest Bat-child a glare. At least some things hadn't changed.

            "When did you pull the files off the mainframe?" He never would have admitted it, but Jason was wondering the same thing. Dick turned from the computer, that cocky grin back on his face. It was the first time Jason had seen it in a while.

            "While you guys were grabbing D. I figured they might be useful." Both Dick and Barbara turned back toward the computer in perfect unison. Jason shook his head.

            "Please never, ever do that again." The Oracles ignored him. Steph snickered and he was sure he even heard a snort of amusement from Artemis.

            As Dick's fingers flew over the keyboard, a number of files started popping up on the screen, each of them with different labels. "There was more here than we thought. For one, the Light is still scheming. They left the formula for the new Nightmare toxin laying around. Manhunter and the Atom are already synthesizing an antidote in case we need it in the future." His older brother punched a few more keys and other files popped up.

            "We also found out that the voice you guys heard during my..." Dick paused for a moment, swallowed, and then forced the word out, "interrogation was Ra's al Ghul. Seems like the whole thing was his idea."

            Jason's eyes flashed over to the littlest Robin. Damian's face seemed to be made of stone, betraying no emotion. _Pretty cold_ , Jason thought, _for just learning his dear grandfather had made him human bait_. Still, he noticed the boy's eyes shift over to Bruce, who responded with a nearly imperceptible nod of his head. They'd be going after the Head of the Demon soon.

            "But the most important thing we found was this..." Dick cleared all other files off the screen except for one labeled "Metagene". Jason felt Artemis stiffen next to him, and watched as both Stephanie and Timmy physically recoiled. He had heard stories about the Reach invasion and their research into Metagenes, but was still fuzzy on the details. All Jason knew was that Steph had been captured at one point, and that the Reach invasion culminated in the events that led to Wally West's death.

            Barbara turned away from the computer while Dick remained staring at the screen, his hand hovering above the "Enter" key. The redhead seemed to be staring right at him. No, not at him. At the woman next to him. At Artemis. There was a sadness in her eyes, like she knew what was coming next was going to hurt...

            "Look." Dick's eyes still hadn't moved from the screen. "Wally is alive."

            If Artemis had stiffened earlier, she completely froze now. Her breath quickened in pace, like an animal about to bolt. Jason was aware of audible gasps around the cave, and all eyes now on the two of them. Even Dick had turned away from the computer.

            "Dick, please." Artemis' words were pained, almost hollow. Her chest still heaved, and Jason could tell she was struggling to keep emotions barely held in check from boiling over.

            "Matter can't be created or destroyed." Dick's voice quivered with... emotion? Anticipation? Jason couldn't tell which. "It can only be changed from one form to another. Wally couldn't have just vanished. So unless the Law of Conservation of Mass has been repealed, he's still alive." Dick turned back to the computer and Jason wasn't sure if Artemis was going to collapse into a ball of tears or explode in an unholy rage on the Boy Wonder.

            "Look, during one of my nightmares, I saw Wally and he told me --"

            "Wally? Wally told you?" Artemis had gone with unholy rage. Her voice trembled, rising in pitch as she took a few steps towards him. "Dick, come on. Don't do this to me. I dream about him too -- all the fucking time, and he talks to me too, but you can't honestly believe that."

            "No, Artemis. Wait." Barbara wheeled herself towards her friend, her arms reaching out to her. Artemis shook her head, her hands out in front of her like she was trying to ward off some evil spirit. Maybe she was.

            "I can't. I can't do this." The blonde staggered backward, stumbling for a moment before regaining her footing and almost running towards the exit.

            "Jason, grab her!" Like Bruce and his Batman voice, Barbara had her Oracle voice. Jason reacted almost instinctively, his hand flying out and grabbing Artemis' arm, holding tight. He noted that he'd have to work on not following Barbara's commands like a drone in the future, especially when it came to Artemis.

            Her body tightened and she turned on him. Jason raised a hand, almost out of habit, in defense. Artemis looked as if she was going to slug him for a moment, and then everything went out of her. "Jay." The blonde's voice was low, a whisper, but her grey eyes were filled with tears waiting like water behind a dam to be released. "Jay, let me go."

            Barbara spoke before he could. "Artemis, we have something you need to see."

            "Artemis, we found him! It's him, it's real. Wally West is still alive." Jason watched as each of Dick's words stabbed into Artemis like a knife. He put his arm around her shoulder, holding her tight to him as Dick opened the folder and clicked on a file.

            On screen, a video sprang to life, showing a Reach containment pod. Pincers on the outside delivered electric shocks to the pod's occupant. Another keystroke and the video froze, zooming in on the man's face inside the pod. Jason recognized it immediately. The red hair, the green eyes bulging in pain, the yellow uniform with scarlet lightning bolt surrounded by a white circle on his chest.

            There was no mistaking it. The Light had Wally West. And they were torturing him.

            Jason watched two solitary tears snake down Artemis' face as she stared at the image frozen before her. He could almost feel the pain and fear rolling off of her. Artemis drew a haggard breath, and then pulled back from him, long strides carrying her closer to the image.

            "So." Her voice was cold, hard. She made no move to dry what Jason knew were tear-stained cheeks. "What do we do now?"

            Dick turned away from the computer, sharing a glance with Bruce and Barbara before looking back at Artemis. That cocky grin started to appear on his face again. "I've called in some old friends. We're forming a plan." Jason groaned internally. There were going to be a lot of long nights ahead. And not in the fun way.

            "Artemis, we're going to get him back."


End file.
